The Runaround
by Possibly Impossible
Summary: . "Santa, we are in way over our heads here." It wasn't the first time Bernard had ever begun a sentence like that. "Oh, you just need to be posi-" "She's certifiably insane." Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

"Thank you again for your hospitality, Scott, and Merry Christmas." Mother Nature said graciously. The rest of the Legendary Figures wished him the same, sitting in his office.

"Yeah," Cupid chimed in. "You have a fantastic spread." He gestured to a table of hors d'oeuvres and, of course, cookies."The food at Mother Nature's place bites."

"Well, _excuse_me for being a Vegan!" Said figure shot back indignantly.

"Well, _some_ of us don't enjoy shoving rabbit-food down our craw!" Cupid countered.

"Hey!" The Easter Bunny piped up.

"No offense, man."

"Alright, alright!" Santa Claus, otherwise known as Scott Calvin, quieted them down. He was exhausted from a night of flying around the world, delivering toys. "This is equal-opportunity catering! Now, what is so important that we needed to have a meeting at six in the morning?" It was true – he had actually just gotten back from delivering toys. He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. Bernard stood beside him vigilantly.

The other Legendary Figures looked at each other nervously. The tension was so palpable that even the Sand Man was awake. Their gazes fell on Father Time, who coughed awkwardly. "Why's everybody looking at _me_?"

"Well, this is a little awkward," The Easter Bunny said. "We've never made a boo-boo like this before."

"Okay guys, you're making me a little nervous here. Please tell me there isn't anything threatening my position as Santa this time!"

"No, it's nothing like that…hopefully." Mother Nature wrung her hands. No one else seemed willing to say anything, so she continued. "A hundred years ago, a previous Santa was forced to exercise disciplinary action on a…wayward elf." At this, Bernard visibly stiffened. "Really, it was a hundred years ago yesterday, but with everything being so hectic around here, it wasn't a good time to bring it up until now. She was suspended from the North Pole and sent to the human world, having been charged with-" Here she pulled out a list, "-Anger management problems that brought down workplace morale, shirking of duties, defacing of property, truancy, and being an all-around…" She looked around to see if there was anyone else listening, and then leaned in towards Santa, whispering, "_Scrooge_,"

Bernard gasped at the word. It was probably the worst insult you could give an elf. Santa's eyes widened and his mouth parted in shock. He stroked his beard in thought. The Head Elf shifted from foot to foot uneasily. He knew what was coming. Santa sighed. "So, what do you want me to do?"

"Well," The Tooth Fairy spoke up, "Her sentence was only supposed to be fifty years, but the past couple of Santas didn't want to deal with her, so all of this kind of got dropped in your lap. Sorry." He looked sheepish.

"But if anybody can do it, you can!" The Easter Bunny encouraged him. The others nodded in agreement.

"Wait, hang on. What exactly is it that I'm _doing_, anyway?"

"Well…" Father time murmured, "Rehabilitating her. You'll have to assign her a parole officer and keep her on a tight leash until you know you can trust her."

"Santa, you don't have to do this!" Bernard insisted, frantically. "This is _not_ the kind of elf you want in your workshop!"

"Don't be so hasty, Bernard," Santa held up a hand, halting him. "I like a challenge every once in a while. Plus, crunch time is over-"

"Yeah, but-"

"-And you could use a hobby." He peered up at the elf over his glasses.

Bernard stood there, his mouth hanging open. When he came to his senses, he became extremely animated. "Abso_lutely_ not! Do you have any idea what kind of damage she caused? And furthermore-"

"Bernard, what is your position?"

Bernard stared at him, dumbfounded. "Is this a trick question?"

"No, just tell me what your position is."

"…Head Elf?" He phrased it like a question.

"And who is your boss?"

Bernard saw where this was going. "You," He mumbled crossly.

"If you would like to keep your job, I suggest you listen to your boss." The Legendary Figures watched this exchange with amused looks on their faces. He stood up. "And I believe everybody deserves a second chance!" Everyone else nodded, seconding his statement.

Bernard sighed, defeated. "How am I even supposed to find her? Let alone bring her back here?" He asked, dreading the unpleasant task before him.

"We had a bit of trouble tracking her because she moves around a lot, but we've finally found her address. She lives in Queens, New York." Mother Nature informed him. "And I suggest you go and get her as soon as possible. She can't have taken too kindly to being ignored for a century."

"You heard the lady!" Scott slapped Bernard on the back positively. "We've gotta get crackin'!"

"But Santa," Bernard protested as he was lead towards the stables, "Aren't you tired? You've been up since yesterday, and the Christmas celebration is today. You need to make an appearance!" All around, elves were rising early to prepare for the festivities.

"Fine," Scott allowed, "But that means you have to go by yourself. Unless you're willing to take Curti-"

"_No_."

"Alright, then. Take one of the reindeer-in-training. The usual team is too exhausted. Now, I'm going to get some beauty sleep."

"Get some rest," Bernard told him. When Scott was out of sight, Bernard deliberately turned around and began banging his head on the doorframe of the stable, startling a few sleeping reindeer. "Why _me_?"

He tacked up a young but promising reindeer named Clyde. He was not looking forward to seeing _her_ again. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

Inside a coffee house in Queens, dubbed "Cat's Cradle" after the owner's slightly creepy love for cats, a girl flipped boredly through an issue of _Cosmo_, chewing gum loudly. Her wavy red hair was fixed conveniently so that it covered her ears. Her freckled nose wrinkled slightly at the cat dander in the air. She had bored brown eyes which occasionally looked up to stare at the tacky "cat-playing-with-ball-of-yarn" wallpaper in distaste.

_I _really_ hate cats._

"Um, excuse me, Miss-"

The coffee girl rudely held up a finger, in the universal sign for "don't get your panties in a twist, sister." She continued to read her article, annoyed at having been disturbed.

"Um-"

"Do I not look _busy_ to you?" Coffee Girl shut her magazine with a loud _slap_ and blew a large bubble. She eyed the customer, a woman in her thirties wearing a yellow pea coat, and fixed her with a hard glare.

"But-"

"I'm not here to _babysit_ you, okay? I'm here to pay my bills. Look, the straws, napkins, and condiments are over there. Happy?"

The woman's face turned pink, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, staring at the tiled floor. "Actually, there's cat hair in my cup."

"Oh, please. Let me see." She snatched the cup from the customer and peered inside, pulling out a large wad of hair with a disgusted face. "Well, what do ya know?" She dropped it in a waste basket and called over her shoulder, gesturing to the woman, "Larry! Please take care of this!" A balding man in a sweater vest and apron strode over to deal with the customer. She rolled her eyes at the situation and turned back to her magazine.

The bell on the door jingled, and Coffee Girl looked up, face brightening to see a tall, thin blonde man with a gaunt face and shaggy hair. She pulled the neckline of her top down just a bit and fluffed up her hair, striking a nonchalant pose against the counter.

The man approached the counter. "The usual."

"Black coffee with a side of sass?" Coffee Girl leaned over the counter, not-so-subtle-ly letting him get a nice view down her top.

He grinned crookedly. "You know it."

"How about the sass first?" She batted her eyelashes.

"Well, I have to-"

"Shut up."

"Yes ma'am!" He grinned wider as Coffee Girl grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the nearby storage room, ignoring the whispers and disgusted looks from customers and coworkers.

* * *

"You know, we still don't even know each other's names," The man gasped as they rolled around on the bags of coffee beans.

"Doesn't matter," Coffee Girl whispered. She giggled as he continued kissing her neck.

Suddenly the storage room door swung open and the two froze in place, exposed.

The owner, a woman in her fifties holding a cat, stared at them. Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Coffee Girl vaguely wondered whether she was having a stroke, and whether it was a bad thing to wait about twenty minutes or so before calling an ambulance. Still looking shocked, she muttered, "You're fired." She shut the door and walked away slowly, as if to let her mind process what she had just seen.

"Damn it!" She got up from her compromising position and scrambled to put her clothes back on (minus the apron, of course). "Well, that's the end of that."

The man pulled on his pants, and after fastening his belt, took hold of her waist. "Well, now we can branch out to other things," He grinned again. "We could start by our names. I'm Gabe."

Coffee Girl nodded politely. "And I'm leaving." She left the storage room.

"Wait, what?" Gabe followed her, dismayed. "But I really like you and I think this could go somewhere!" He seemed unconcerned that he was barefoot, as well as bare from the waist up. Customers blatantly stared at the two, watching the exchange with fascination.

"Yeah, well, you thought, I thought. Tomato, To-mah-to." She laughed, waving her hand and putting on her leather bomber jacket. _I feel so bad-ass wearing this_, she thought with a giggle.

Gabe followed her outside. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"

"Don't know, don't care. I got mine!"

"You really don't have a heart, do you?" He clearly meant to inflict damage with this comment.

"Guess not!" Coffee girl replied cheerfully, walking away with a skip in her step, leaving Gabe standing in the early morning air. "Merry Christmas!" She ignored the profanity that followed.

* * *

Coffee Girl absentmindedly mumbled a song to herself as she mounted the stairs in her apartment building.

"It's the holiday season, so whoop-dee-doo, and dickory-dock, and don't forget to hang up your sock 'cause just exactly at twelve-o'clock he'll be coming down the chimney, now!" She was grinning to herself until she turned the corner and saw an all-too familiar face.

The young man with curly black hair turned to her with a hard look on his face. "Hello, Beck."

Beck was stunned for a moment, but quickly masked it with a smirk. "Hey, Bernie! Miss me?"

Bernard grimaced at the nickname. "Not much."

"You lost all your baby fat," Beck advanced on him. "How are you supposed to keep warm in the winter?" She sneered.

"Clearly with your warm, friendly personality." Bernard remarked dryly, staring at her in disdain.

They were now face to face, and he was only a few inches taller.

"I see you've grown," Bernard remarked.

"I see you haven't." Beck snorted, and unlocked her apartment door, a battered grey thing that matched the rest of the doors in the hallway. The door stuck, and after a few moments of struggling, Beck finally rammed her shoulder into the door, forcing it open.

Bernard strolled in after her, not bothering to ask. Beck pulled her coat off and tossed it onto a futon. Bernard looked around at the apartment. It was sparsely furnished, with off-white walls and beat-up looking blinds covering one small window. There was the faint sound of traffic from the road.

"So," Beck sprawled out on the futon, "They're begging for me back, are they?"

"_Begging_," Bernard scoffed, "You wish. Your sentence is up. It's time to start your parole at the North Pole." He stood, rooted to the spot, prepared for anything.

"Hm," Beck nodded bitterly, "I don't know if you're aware, but my sentence was up _fifty fucking years ago_." She stood up and walked over to the window, staring out between the blinds at the road. "I've been moving from place to place every few years. Honolulu, Chicago, New Orleans… I've been in Queens for eighteen months. I like it here." She shrugged.

"I'm sure you probably liked it better at the Pole." Bernard crossed his arms firmly.

"Seen one frozen tundra, seen 'em all." Beck shrugged again. "Anyway, do you really think I'd go _back_ after what happened? _Hell_ no." She crossed her arms, mimicking Bernard's adamant pose. The two stared at one another.

"I brought a reindeer-in-training with me. I know how much you always liked the yearlings." Bernard offered, trying a new tactic: buttering her up. "His name is Clyde."

"Oh, you did that for little old _me_?" She placed a hand on her heart mockingly, pretending to swoon. "Yeah, right. The Handbook says taking yearlings from the Pole is a no-no. Even I know that." She finished triumphantly.

"Oh, so you think I'm bluffing?" Bernard raised his eyebrows. "I'll show you. Come on." Beck rolled her eyes but followed him anyway.

* * *

They reached the parking lot, and she was greeted with the sight of a young reindeer tied to a parking meter. "Okay, so you weren't lying. But that doesn't mean I'm going to go quietly."

"Look, Beck. I don't want you back anymore than you want to return-"

"Thanks, I feel so warm and fuzzy inside."

"-But if I come back empty-handed, the Council will just be up in your face. You're coming back one way or another, so you might as well make this easy for both of us. Anyway, you only need to spend a year up there, max. There's no guaranteeing that you won't be kicked out first, anyway."

Beck stared at him for a moment. "Are you giving me an _ultimatum_?" She raised her eyebrows and rested a hand on her protruding hip. "Hard-ass. You _have_ changed."

"And you haven't?"

The two stared at each other in silence for a few moments. "Fine."

"And furthermore – wait, what?" Bernard asked, confused.

"I said _fine_. Now, help me pack before I changed my mind." Beck stomped back into the building grumpily. Bernard followed her, confused but smug all the same.

Clyde landed, rather ungracefully, showering snow everywhere.

* * *

Beck hopped off, clutching her suitcase and struggling to regain her footing. "Uh, just putting this out there, but you pretty much suck at driving."

Bernard ignored her. It was a little hard for him to concentrate when she wouldn't shut up – not to mention her sitting behind him and pressing her entire body against his back in the most obscene way possible (not that he would ever give her the satisfaction of knowing that).

"So, Head Elf? That's a switch, huh? You were never exactly the 'Big Man on Campus,'" Beck said, using air-quotes.

Bernard nodded. "I'm not only your Parole officer, I'm your boss." He told her superciliously.

"Ooh, I'm so scared," Beck replied, deadpanned. "So, where's the Fat Man? I have a few choice words for him right now."

He bristled but chose to ignore her word choice. "He's resting after last night. You know, because there are people who actually _work_ around here. I'll show you to your place."

Bernard found that he had still retained the ability to endure her incessant attitude and complaining, despite the long years since he had last seen her. He couldn't help but notice that the silver sparkles characteristic of Santa's elves were absent from her cheeks.

Unceremoniously, Bernard opened the door to the lavishly decorated dwelling as Beck dropped her suitcase. She gazed around the room in wonder. She realized that she had forgotten how elaborate things were at the North Pole, after living in crappy apartment complexes.

"I'll be back in a few hours. We have way too much to do today." Bernard couldn't stand to be on the same planet as Beck, let alone the same room.

"'We?'" Beck snarled. "No. There is no 'We.' If it were up to me, there wouldn't even be a 'you!'"

Ignoring the threat, "Excuse me, I have real work to do." He hastily left.

Beck paused in her loathing when she heard a series of clicks on the other side of the door.

_Did he seriously just lock me in?_ She tugged on the door. When it didn't budge, she kicked it angrily. "That _dick_!" She shouted, stomping her foot. "That is not fair!"

Now ignoring the beautiful decorations, she sullenly changed out of her work clothes and hopped onto the large bed for a nap.

_Why me?_

* * *

**_Phew! I've had this story up in my head for quite some time now, and it's about time that I got it down on paper!_**

**_Review please! Critiques welcome!_**


	2. Chapter 2

"Beck, open the door!" Bernard pounded his fist on his charge's front door.

It opened, revealing a rumpled, sleepy Beck, grouchy at having been disturbed from her nap. "Can I help you?" She grumbled, glaring at the clock which declared 1:00 pm. Bernard shoved past her into the room.

"It's Christmas Day."

"…And?"

"With it comes the Pole Christmas party." He opened her still-packed suitcase and dug around.

"So?" Beck groggily replied, rubbing her sleep-filled eyes and wondering why the hell he was going through her stuff.

"You're late." He pulled out some clothes and threw them at her.

Rolling her eyes, Beck caught the clothes. Without a second thought, she peeled off her pajama top. Startled, Bernard quickly turned his back to her and covered his eyes. His pointed ears were bright red. Beck just laughed at him, shimmying out of her sweatpants. "Prude."

He cleared his throat nervously. "Just hurry up." Now he sounded impatient.

"Alright, alright. _Jeez_." She put on the clothes – a blue dress she hadn't worn in years and a black sweater. She then shoved her feet into her trusty converse sneakers. She yanked the hair tie from her hair and let it fall messily down her back. "How do I look?"

Bernard tentatively turned around and gave her footwear a skeptical look.

"You've already put me in a dress. What more do you _want_ from me?" Beck huffed dramatically.

"I don't have time for this." He took Beck's arm and led her out of the apartment building.

* * *

Stomping after him in the snow, "Why do I even have to _go_?" Beck whined.

Bernard resisted the urge to pull his hair out. "_Because_, Beck, it's part of your probation. You need to be involved in as much as possible here at the North Pole to convince the Council of Legendary Figures that you're fit to stay. That includes being involved in social functions."

"Ugh, fine." She paused briefly in her steps. "Wait a minute, who says I want to stay?"

"Santa wants you here because he thinks you have 'potential' or something. If it were up to me, you'd never have come back in the first place, but hey. I'm just the Head Elf. It's all up to the Big Guy."

"Harsh. You have wounded me to the core." Beck rolled her eyes. "I still don't get why you have to be my babysitter."

"I'm your parole officer, remember? I have to make sure you're behaving. We don't want any repeats. If it weren't for you I wouldn't be going to this thing either. I don't like it any more than you do." Bernard told her crisply.

"The party or me being here?" Beck inquired, one eyebrow raised.

"Both."

"That makes two of us, then."

* * *

When they reached the main part of town, the Christmas celebration was in full swing. At the North Pole, Christmas Day proper was always an extravagant affair. The "party" was really more like a huge parade. The reindeer paraded proudly down Main Street, displaying their bells and medals. There were several (rather short) Pére Fouettards* and Krampuses* running around, smacking people with switches. Beck thought that just about every cultural Christmas tradition was represented somehow (back in elf school, the one subject she had excelled in was "Culture and History of Christmas" – a sort of elf social studies).

The young elf girls who usually wore fanciful princess dresses and tall hats were even more outlandishly decorated, and Beck felt extremely underdressed for the occasion. The town was decked out even more than usual, in preparation for the house-lighting contest that night. There were a few groups of elves rehearsing for the caroling competition later on.

The elves were always a very competitive group of people. Whether it was playing touch football with Santa or betting on who would finish their work quota for the day first, it was all about the thrill of the game. Christmas day was no exception to this. There were tree decorating contests, baking contests, and reindeer exhibitions, to name a few. The elves tried to look busy but couldn't hide the whispers and pointing.

* * *

"Hey," Beck tried to get Bernard's attention while trailing after him. He either hadn't heard her or was pretending not to. "Bernard." She tapped him on the shoulder. He kept walking. "Hello-oh?" She raised her voice a bit. Bernard stopped, but it was only to buy some roasted chestnuts. _Alright, this is getting ridiculous…_

"Hey!" He continued to ignore her, walking briskly past a Pére Fouettard riding a donkey. "Hey." Nothing. "Hey!" She huffed in frustration and tugged on his coat. "Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey." She tugged more forcefully. "_Bernie!_"

Bernard whirled around, furious at having been called that. "WHAT?"

The entire square went completely silent. You could say that you could have heard a pin drop, but elves have extremely good hearing and could have heard one anyway. Every single elf turned to stare at the two, wide-eyed.

Beck looked around in awe, mouth agape. She quickly became bored with that and turned to the fuming Head Elf. "'S there any booze being served at this thing?"

Bernard gave everyone a look that scared them into minding their own business. The constant buzz of noise returned. "Well, we have eggnog and cider."

"No, I mean hard stuff. Like vodka, maybe?" She asked hopefully.

He rolled his eyes. "'Like vodka maybe?'" He mocked her, walking away.

"No, I'm serious!" Beck marched after him. "If I'm supposed to get through this thing with my sanity intact, I'm gonna need a good, stiff drink!" She stomped for emphasis.

"Look, Beck, the strongest thing here is the glue used in Assembly."

"I can make do!"

"I'm supposed to be watching you, so please don't start rooting around in search of the 'good stuff.' I will buy you a cider if it'll shut you up." He stopped at a vendor and paid for a tall cup of apple cider. He gave it to Beck, who sipped sullenly.

"This is going to be a long probation." She rolled her eyes yet again.

"It's not just for your probation. It applies to the whole North Pole. Alcohol slows down production and lowers morale." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I'm not _staying_," Beck laughed and waved her free hand. "Do you really think the Council will want to keep me here? Anyway, the no-liquor thing is kind of a deal breaker for me." She winked and Bernard couldn't tell whether she was serious or not.

Suddenly, a young elf dressed as Krampus ran up and took his switch to Beck's rear-end with a loud "thwack!" Bernard stared at Beck, expecting her to get pissed off.

Beck caught the boy by his large pointed ear. He looked up at her, petrified. "Sorry, but you're not exactly my type. You're cute though. If only you were older," She smirked and dragged a finger down his chubby cheek. This made him extremely uncomfortable, and his cheeks turned dark crimson. Beck threw her head back and laughed, walking away. Bernard looked back and forth between them for a moment, before hurrying after her.

"Okay, what just happened?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm just looking to cause a bit of a stir. It makes things more interesting." She replied innocently, finishing off her cider. "Anyone who says they don't like drama is lying."

By this point, they were near an eggnog stand, and they each bought a cup.

"You know, I think I prefer cider." She murmured, nursing her eggnog.

"Hm, is that so?" Bernard asked, not masking his disinterest.

"Yeah. Not only does eggnog vaguely remind me of breast milk-" This caused Bernard to nearly gag on his own beverage, "-but cider has a much higher alcohol content. And you can't even taste it. You know it's a good drink when you can't even taste the alcohol." She leaned in closer to Bernard to whisper, "But between you and me, I like a good, straight gin every once in a while, too." Her eyes shined with mischief.

Bernard sighed, disgusted. "Beck, you are _fascinating_." He remarked dryly.

"Well gee; tell me how ya really feel!" Beck scoffed, tossing her rumpled red hair.

"Bernard!" The two saw Scott, otherwise known as Santa, strolling up. "How is everything? Are you comfortable in your apartment?" He addressed Bernard and then Beck.

"I _was_," She shot her parole officer a dirty look and gulped down the rest of her drink.

"Good, good!" He looked pleased.

Beck continued to stare at him. Santa looked around awkwardly. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Oh, no, no," Beck waved a hand, "Sorry, you just look a _lot_ like Tim Allen."

Santa laughed heartily. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

"Actually, you know, Santa," Bernard spoke up, "I think, since it's just after the big night and all that I'm just going to be swamped trying to get the elves back on track with their work - just _swamped_ - so I don't really know if I can do a very good job mentoring Beck…"

"Actually, this is the least busy time of year, so you should have plenty of time!" Scott reasoned. "And _actually_," He continued with a knowing smile, "If it's too much work for you, Curtis can cover _your _duties at the workshop."

"_Actually_ Santa, that's a wonderful idea!" Curtis popped out from behind a pie stand and smiled self-assuredly over his spectacles.

Bernard glared at him "Not a chance." He said sharply.

Curtis shrugged. "It was worth a shot." He pushed his glasses up farther on his face, adjusted the Rule Book in his arms, and trudged away.

"Now Bernard, I know there may be hard feelings between you and Beck-"

"Hard feelings? She treated me like dirt! She treated everyone like dirt! I'm pretty sure she doesn't even have a heart." He stated bitterly.

"That's kind of a harsh thing to say," Scott raised his eyebrows, taken aback. Bernard might be short with people, but he never outright disliked them.

"Yes, well, it's true. But at least she's getting what she deserves." Bernard sullenly crossed his arms.

"By the way, where is Beck?" Scott asked, looking around. Bernard did the same. When he didn't see her, his stomach dropped.

"Oh, for the love of Christmas!" He took off into the crowd, frantically looking for his wayward charge. Santa followed him, looking over some child-sized elves' heads. Bernard spotted Curtis. "Curtis! Where's Beck?"

Curtis gave him a look. "_You_ were supposed to be watching her!"

After combing through the crowds, Bernard finally spotted Beck at a vendor, chugging a cup of cider with some other elves cheering her on.

"Chug, chug, chug, chug!" They chanted.

She finished it off and slammed down the empty cup triumphantly. She pumped her fist in the air as her fans cheered.

"Excuse me!" Bernard shoved the crowd out of his way. "What is this?" He confronted her.

"Uh…a drinking game?" She offered and leaned against the stand in order to steady herself.

Scott arrived. "Okay, nothing to see here!" he shooed away some onlookers and turned to Beck disapprovingly.

"How many have you had?" Bernard eyed the empty cups on the ground.

"I don't know. Only like, two or three… or six." She finished in a small voice, smiling sheepishly up at him.

"You are absolutely ridiculous." Bernard said through his teeth. What happened next was attributed to the alcohol.

Beck's misty brown eyes grew wide. "You're not mad at me, are you Bernard?" She moved up uncomfortably close to him, fiddling with his necklace. "Don't be mad." The way she was whispering and the way her breath hit his neck seemed much too intimate for Bernard.

He sighed, feeling extremely uncomfortable with her uninhibited behavior. "We need to get you back to your apartment," He told her firmly, noticing the looks they were receiving.

Beck nodded, and made a face as if she were going to sneeze. Bernard was ready to greet it with a "gesundheit" when she suddenly leaned over and emptied her stomach on his shoes, before collapsing on him.

He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, counting to ten, lest he do something he might regret later. He held his hands up as if she was something disgusting that he couldn't stand to have touching him.

This was when Scott finally decided to intervene. "Here we go," He took hold of Beck under her arms and held her up. Bernard gave him an "I told you so" look.

"You're going to hit a few roadblocks!" Scott insisted. "And uh…it'll probably get worse before it gets better." He offered a weak smile.

* * *

The two were able to get Beck back to her apartment with the help of Blitzen. They awkwardly dragged her through the lobby and into the elevator. Finally they reached the apartment and got her onto the bed.

Scott pulled off her shoes, and then walked over to Bernard, who was livid. "Bernard, I need you to stay here."

"But-" Bernard tried to protest.

"Just until she sobers up. Please, just watch her. I have to judge the reindeer show." With that, Scott hurried out.

Bernard stared at Beck, passed out on her bed. "You are more trouble than you're worth."

He spent the better part of the next hour or so in the bathroom, trying to clean his shoes off. Afterwards, he slumped down onto the couch in the living room, letting his head rest on the back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

_I can't believe it's only the first day…this is going to be one long year._

He dozed for a while, until a rustling sound from the other room woke him. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 7:43 pm – he had only been asleep for two hours. He heard Beck moan softly.

Bernard grabbed a bottle of painkillers from a cabinet in the bathroom. He walked into the bedroom, not attempting to hide the contempt in his expression, and handed the pills to Beck. She swallowed them gratefully.

"You're a mess, you know that?" She rolled over and stared at the opposite wall. "Do you realize what you've done here? I have to handle the whole workshop, _and_ you. You definitely have a knack for ruining people's lives." He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

She rolled over again to face him angrily. "And what about you?" She was still slurring a bit. "You've completely uprooted my life. I was happy there in the human world. I don't even want to _be_ here!"

Bernard stared at her. Her red waves were spread out on the pillow and framed her face. Her freckled face was utterly miserable: her doe eyes sad and stubborn. He wondered why Santa wanted to waste his time on someone so utterly hopeless, someone who didn't _want_ to change.

He must have been looking for a long time, because her brows knit together in an annoyed expression. "Staring is rude, you know." She turned her face away again. "I think you should go."

Bernard didn't protest.

He had a bone to pick with Santa.

* * *

**_* Pere Fouettard and Krampus are cultural traditions in France and Germany - They're like Anti-Santas for naughty children. Look them up - they're really neat!_**

**_Watch for the next chapter, where we'll learn more about Bernard's history with Beck._**


	3. Chapter 3

The evening of Christmas Day, Bernard marched into Santa's office. "Santa, we need to talk."

Santa looked up from packing up some things from his desk. The next day was the beginning of the off season for him, and he was going to spend some time with Charlie before taking a trip to Disney World with Carol and Buddy. "Oh, Bernard. I'm sure you'll do fine with this whole Beck thing."

"We are in way over our heads here."

"Oh, you just need to be posi-"

"She's _insane_."

Santa took Bernard by the shoulders and pushed him down into the chair opposite his desk. "Bernard, you need to get a hold of yourself. I don't know what happened between you two, but I suggest you figure out how to get past it."

Bernard sighed, rubbing his temples. "I know I'm being unprofessional, Santa. I apologize. But you didn't know her when we were young. You weren't there when she was suspended from the Pole."

"Then why don't you fill me in? I'm sure your point of view is legit." Santa said diplomatically.

"Did you really just say 'legit?'"

Santa shrugged. "What? I can be hip, too! But we're talking about you here."

Bernard settled back in his chair. "Well, we went to elf school together." Suddenly he perked up, as if he thought of something. "I'll be right back," He stood and hurried out of the room and down the hall, to his own office.

Bernard rummaged through his desk. Coming up empty-handed, he moved to the large bookshelf that lined one wall. Running his fingers over the bindings, he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a thick photo album and removed an old, yellowed photo. He returned to Santa's office, the bearded man looking expectantly up at him.

"We were in the same graduating class," He handed the photograph to Scott, who put his reading glasses on to get a better look.

A group of about thirty or so young students smiled back at him. They all wore the same uniform of dark trousers or skirts, neatly pressed shirts and sweater vests with the Elfheim school crest on the front. Santa smiled. The dress code had become more relaxed in more recent years.

He easily spotted Bernard – an awkwardly tall young boy with a mass of dark, curly hair, smiling shyly at the camera. He had lost the chubbiness in his cheeks since then photo was taken, but looked mostly the same. He searched the photo for Beck.

"Where's Beck?"

"Oh, here." Bernard took the photo and pointed her out to Santa before handing the picture back.

Santa peered at her. Unlike Bernard, she was about the same height as the rest of her classmates (She seemed to have gotten taller since then). Her face was blurred, apparently from moving her head at the same time that the picture was snapped. Though it was fuzzy, he could make out a laughing expression on her face, immortalized by a photograph.

He gently put the photo down on his desk, and looked at Bernard, motioning for him to continue.

"Mother Nature certainly had her pegged," He began, "She was a lazy, rude, selfish…Scrooge. We've known each other our entire lives."

* * *

_A little boy with curly, black hair and big pointed ears played on a swing set. He lied on the seat of the swing on his belly with his arms and legs outstretched, pretending to fly._

_His companion, a little girl with a messy red braid and smaller pointed ears, hoisted herself up so that she was standing on the seat of the other swing, albeit a little unsteadily._

_"Look Bernard, I'm bigger than you!" She laughed, looking down at him. _

_"But I can fly, and that's better than being tall, Becky!" Young Bernard told her, continuing his imaginary flight._

_Little Becky's nose wrinkled, and her face turned pink in jealousy. "I'm going to go play a better game!" She hopped down from the swing and marched off, leaving her friend confused._

_

* * *

_

_A few hundred years later, it was the first day of elf school. Bernard timidly walked to the back of the room, placing his new books on a desk in the corner._

_"Hey, Giant." _

_Bernard cringed and pretended not to hear._

_"Hey, I'm talking to you, freak!" A blonde haired boy walked up, knocking his books off his desk._

_The bully's friends walked up behind him. One of them piped up, "It's a wonder he didn't hear you with those gigantic ears of his!"_

_The rest of the boys chimed in with insults like "Giant" and "Dumbo" as Bernard stooped to retrieve his things. The bully stomped on his books, wrinkling and dirtying them on the floor before he could touch them._

_"Stop it, James." He addressed the floor, standing up._

_"What was that?" James pushed him back down to the floor. His comrades laughed. _

_The other students in the room started chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" as James's buddies pulled Bernard's jacket over his head so that he couldn't see. They then proceeded to beat him up, with Bernard not even attempting to stop them._

"_Hey!" Someone shouted over the pandemonium. Becky rushed over and pulled James off of Bernard. "Lay off him! What's he ever done to you?" Once James stopped, his cronies stopped to get a better look at what was going on._

"_Go play with some dolls, ya dumb girl," James sneered. This enraged Becky._

"_Why I oughta-" Becky grabbed him by the shirt collar, made a fist, and relieved him of his two front teeth. While he sat on the floor crying, she turned to the other bullies. "Anyone else?"_

"_What is all this?" Thirty heads snapped up to see the teacher, or Mrs. Claus, in the doorway. She took in the scene – a bruised Bernard with a bloody nose and ripped uniform, Becky brandishing her fists, and James with blood pouring from his mouth like a waterfall. James saw his opportunity. He ran to the teacher, hiding behind her._

"_That giant kid went crazy! My friends tried to stop him but Becky joined in and punched me!" He blubbered._

"_Alright, that's quite enough." She grabbed Becky and Bernard firmly by the ears and led them down the hall to the Principal's office._

_The two sat beside each other in the stiff chairs in awkward silence. Becky swung her short legs in the air._

"_How's your nose?" She asked, trying to make conversation._

_Holding a wad of tissues to stem the flow, he shrugged, staring at the floor. His eye was swollen nearly shut and the surrounding area was a nasty grey._

"_James is such a jerk." She declared._

* * *

_Years later, teenaged Becky was walking to school alone. She wondered where Bernard was – he always walked with her. She even went to his house, but he wasn't there, so she figured that he must have left already. When she reached the school yard, she saw James and his friends laughing riotously. She was unconcerned until she saw Bernard._

_He was standing with his tongue frozen to the flag pole._

_She marched over furiously. "Get lost!" She snarled at the bullies, and everyone but James left, laughing._

"_Without your little boyfriend, I would be a very bored guy." He leaned against the flag pole, ignoring Bernard._

"_He's not my boyfriend."_

"_So you are available?" James moved closer to her, smiling with two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth._

_Becky's face turned pink, but she regained her composure quickly. _

"_Your breath smells."_

_He looked a bit taken aback for a moment. "Have fun playing patty cake." He stalked off. Despite herself, Becky stared after him, lost in thought._

_Rolling her eyes, she turned to Bernard, who was avoiding her gaze._

"_Don't move, okay?"_

_Bernard rolled his own eyes and mumbled something unintelligible._

_Becky moved behind him and grabbed the sides of his head between her hands securely. "Ready?"_

_He squeaked something that sounded a bit like, "No."_

"_One – two -"_

"_AAAUGH!"_

* * *

_The two made it into class as the teacher was taking roll._

"_Rebecca?" The plump woman called._

"_It's Beck." She corrected her._

_The two took their seats beside one another. Throughout the school day, Bernard diligently took notes, hanging on the teacher's every word, while Beck doodled and passed notes and threw paper airplanes, occasionally stealing a glance at James. After class, they packed up their books._

"_Is Yuletide Literature boring or what?" Beck laughed, pretending to shoot herself with a handgun._

"_Well, you might get more out of it if you would actually _pay attention_." He retorted._

"_Where's the fun in that?" She grinned. She glanced behind her shoulder at James, who was lingering with his friends. "You go ahead, I'll catch up."_

_Bernard left the school building, but sat on a bench to wait for Beck. He felt badly for not walking with her to school that morning, even if he had been somewhat indisposed._

_He waited for a good half an hour, before he became curious._

What the heck is she doing in there?

_He reentered the building. Bernard walked down the hallway and into the classroom, stopping in his tracks at what he saw._

_Beck was quite preoccupied at the present time, stuck in a lip lock with a certain blonde bully. She was standing on her toes, with her hands planted firmly on James's shoulders. She backed him up into the teacher's desk, and when he nearly toppled over backward, she giggled._

_Bernard must have made a noise because their heads swiveled around to look at him. James grinned smugly. He walked up to Bernard. "Should have moved a little faster, Gigantor." He whispered in his ear, patting him on the chest in a falsely chummy way, and walked out of the room whistling. He stared at Beck in shock._

"_I told you to go without me." Beck crossed her arms and looked anywhere but at him._

"_Yeah, so you could suck face with James!" He burst angrily._

"_It wasn't like that!" She insisted weakly. _

"_Oh yeah?" Bernard challenged. "What was it like? Was he trying to retrieve your pencil from down your throat with his tongue?" _

_Beck glared at him. "I don't believe you!"_

"_Well, I don't believe _you_!" He paced furiously. "Of all people, _James_! You should be with someone better! Someone like-"_

"_Someone like you, you mean?" Beck stared at him. Bernard's ears turned dark crimson._

"_No!" He blurted. Beck looked shocked. "Why would you even ask that?" He forced a laugh to hide his embarrassment. "Why in the world would I like _you_?" There was an awkward silence that seemed to drag on for eternity._

_Trying to regain control of the situation, "Good!" Beck shrugged, feigning nonchalance._

"_Fine!"_

"_That's perfect, because girls like me don't go with losers." Beck shot back harshly and shoved past him out of the room, determined not to let him see her cry._

_Bernard stared at the empty doorway. _

Very nice, Gigantor, _he scolded himself inwardly, kicking a desk._

* * *

"…So, you and Beck?" Scott asked tentatively, conveying his meaning by hooking his pinkies together.

"Gosh, no." Bernard said. "She caught me off guard, that's all."

_

* * *

_

_The next day at school, Beck arrived to see a commotion in the school yard. Students were standing in a circle, cheering. She shoved past them to see Bernard and James in a full-on fist fight._

"_What the hell are you doing?" She shouted, getting some looks for her language. She stepped in front of James, who was about to throw a final punch._

"_He's not worth it," She murmured against his neck. James looked frustrated at having been interrupted, but pleased that he had won _something_. Beck turned on Bernard, who was catching his breath and holding an apparently broken nose. "Just what are you trying to prove?" She asked as the crowd dispersed._

"_I'm not _worth_ it?" Bernard asked, glaring at Beck._

_She shook her head. "No one ever accused you of having any sense." She hissed. James wound his arm around her shoulders and the two walked away, leaving Bernard kneeling in the snow alone. Beck never looked back._

_

* * *

_

_Beck and James eventually broke up, and Beck continued to string along a series of other boys. After graduation, everyone received their workshop assignment. Bernard, having graduated at the top of the class, was given a promising job as the assistant head of Research and Development, an entry-level management position. His department specialized in developing new toys and improving on old ones. It handled blueprints and prototypes, and was the most important branch in the Workshop. No toys were made without having first been run past him._

_Beck, on the other hand, barely graduated elf school. She skipped, ignored her school work, and spent her days painting graffiti on buildings and setting off tinsel bombs. She was placed in Doll Assembly._

_She was fired after one week, when every doll she made had either its hair or its limbs ripped off in a frustrated rage. Her next position was a dishwasher in the kitchen. She kept this position for a total of three weeks. Her coworkers were distracted and, frankly, a little frightened by her frequent outbursts of rage. The last assignment before her suspension was stable hand, and she kept this job for most of the year._

* * *

"That assignment ended when she accidentally gave the reindeer team colic on Christmas Eve," Bernard told Santa.

Santa's eyebrows shot up, and he listened intently.

"Beck singlehandedly ruined Christmas for a lot of kids, all because she didn't listen. That Santa hooked up the reindeer-in-training instead, but they couldn't get to all the houses in time because the team didn't know the route." Bernard wearily rubbed his face. "I'm not the only one around here with hard feelings," He tried to make clear, "When the Santa Claus at the time confronted her about it, she exploded. I was one of the unlucky ones who got to witness it, because he called in all the department heads, as well as the Head Elf at the time. By then I was in charge of Research and Development.

"At first, she just kind of stood there and took the lecture, but soon she became more agitated. It eventually escalated into her becoming defensive and shouting at Santa. He suggested that she 'take a break,' which is just a euphemism for Suspension. This really set her off, and soon snow globes were being shattered and books were thrown. I actually got a small concussion that night." He laughed bitterly. "Anyway, this fiasco ended with a few of us having to physically restrain her. I'll never forget her face. We were down on the floor, and I had one of her arms pinned. There was so much confusion and screaming that I don't remember much. Beck looked at me and she had tears in her eyes. 'Do something,' she begged me. I guess I was feeling nostalgic or something, because I begged her not to cry. But she said to me, 'I'm not crying. Babies cry.'

"I stood back and watched them drag her out, and she stared directly at me until they turned the corner. And until today, that was the last time I saw her." He ended unceremoniously.

Scott sat back in his chair, stroking his beard with a troubled expression on his face. Bernard looked up at the grandfather clock. It was past eleven. He looked at Scott apologetically.

"I'm sorry I stayed so long," Bernard told him, "I should probably go." He stood to leave.

"Sit down." Santa told him. He did. "Don't tell me a story like that and expect me to digest it by myself!"

Bernard stared at his hands in his lap sheepishly.

"Now, I've only seen her for a total of about ten minutes…while she was conscious, at least," Santa chuckled a bit, "But it seems to me like the hard feelings are mutual." He looked at Bernard pointedly. "And I don't like butting into other people's business, so that's all I'm going to say on the subject." He stood up and stretched. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to hit they hay. Me and the Missus are leaving tomorrow morning. Good night, Bernard." Bernard wished him the same and left.

* * *

The Head Elf let himself into his apartment building, the same one that Beck was staying in, and took the elevator to his home. Being the Head Elf, he had the entire top floor to himself – not that he was home much anyway. He tossed his beret on the nightstand in his bedroom, changed for bed, and set his alarm for work.

As he fell asleep that night, he felt Beck's betrayal of him and of the North Pole as freshly as he had so many years ago.

And perhaps, although he would deny it if anyone asked, he felt a little bit of guilt as well.

* * *

**_Chapter 3 done! Next time we get to see Beck joining the elvin workforce once again!_**

**_Review please! Critiques welcome!_**


	4. Chapter 4

"Ugh," Beck groaned and rolled over to look at the clock, only to hit open air, which preceded the hardwood floor. She lay there for a few moments before it dawned on her that she didn't have hardwood floor in her apartment.

_My floor is supposed to be carpet._

_Unless I passed out in the kitchen this time, in which case this should be linoleum. _

_…Wait, what?_

Her eyes shot open, bulging slightly. She took in the sideways view of the festive room from her spot on the floor.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Beck scrambled to her feet, banging her knee on the bedside table. Holding her wounded knee, she hopped on one foot to the window. She yanked back the thick drapes and squinted as artificial sunlight flooded the room.

She turned to a large, ornate mirror on the wall and made a face when she saw her eyeliner smudged, bloodshot eyes and dragged-backwards-through-a-bush bed head. She grabbed some clothes and dragged herself into the shower, taking her time and belting out a verse or two of Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody."

* * *

When Beck emerged in clean clothes, she shuffled into the kitchen and stared idly into the empty refrigerator. She hummed a bit of the song to herself while squatting and doing a few lunges to loosen her tight blue jeans.

"Nice solo," someone commented dryly. Beck jumped, ceasing her exercises, and turned her head to see a green beret poking above an issue of _The Yule Gazette_. "You were a little flat, though."

"I'll make a note of it," she mumbled, leaning on the open fridge door and gazing at Bernard from beneath her eyelashes. "I'm sorry, how did you get in here again?"

A hand emerged from behind the paper and dangled a set of keys. Beck walked over to take them, but Bernard snatched the keys away, setting the paper down on the table. "Ah, ah, ah." He wagged a finger at her. "You've got to earn these. I can't trust you yet."

"I freaking hate you," She rolled her eyes immaturely and flung open the refrigerator door again, as if food had somehow materialized in the few seconds that she had been out of the immediate vicinity. "Why is there no _food_?" She whined.

Bernard gave a long-suffering sigh, and plopped a paper bag onto the table. Beck slowly approached the table and gingerly pulled the bag open, keeping her wary eyes on Bernard the whole time. She then proceeded to reach into the bag as if there was a snake inside, and pulled out a cinnamon bagel with cream cheese.

* * *

_Bernard ran through the snow to Beck's house. She had been out of school for the past few days due to the flu, and he needed to hurry if he wanted to see Beck and make it to school on time. _

_He approached her ground-level window, knocking on the glass. There was a shuffle inside before the window was pushed open. Beck stood, shivering as the icy air blew into her bedroom. She was dressed in a heavy bathrobe, and she had dark circles under her eyes._

_"Good morning!" He greeted her._

_"G'morning," She hoarsely replied, sniffing. She gave an exhausted smile._

_"I have to go so I'm not late, but this is for you. Feel better soon, okay?" He pushed a brown paper bag into her hands and hurried off with his book bag, his legs looking awkward in his too-short school slacks._

_Beck chuckled and looked inside the bag, pulling out a cinnamon bagel with cream cheese. She smiled. "My favorite. What a guy," She mused, biting into her breakfast._

* * *

"It's poisoned." She declared, promptly dropping it on the table.

"Don't be ridiculous. We need to keep you alive for liability reasons," Bernard said crisply. Beck stared at him, unsure whether or not he was being serious. He calmly took a sip out of his paper "to-go" cup.

"Heh," was all that Beck could come up with: a half-laugh and a sneer. Despite herself, she took a large bite out of the bagel. _Sadist,_ she thought bitterly.

"We've got a lot of work to do today. My work day started at six, but I thought I'd give you an extra hour or two."

"How magnanimous of you," Beck said, polishing off the bagel.

"Just a cross I have to bear," He shot back, annoyed. "Anyway, we're going to try to place you in a job today." He finished off his drink and moved to put the cup in the trash can. This required him to lean past Beck, which allowed her to catch a whiff of his breath.

"Hot Cocoa? _Really_?" She raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I thought that was coffee you were drinking. And here I was just beginning to take you seriously." She smirked at having gained the upper hand once more.

* * *

"My feet are _freezing_," Beck complained on the way to the workshop.

"Why aren't you wearing appropriate shoes for the snow? We're at the _North Pole_. It's a little nippy up here." Bernard shot a look at Beck's canvas high-top sneakers. "Do you wanna get frost bite?"

* * *

When the two reached the workshop, Beck pulled off her jacket and flung it to the side dramatically. "I'm home!" She announced.

A few elves gave her dirty looks, and someone hissed, "Hide the dolls!" but most of the workers ignored her presence altogether.

"Tough crowd." Beck hooked her thumbs in her belt loops.

Bernard led her into his office and sat at his desk. Beck wandered around the room, gazing at the different articles and certificates. She paused briefly when she saw a familiar photo from elf school, but quickly looked away and cleared her throat. "So uh, when do I start working?"

"Now." Bernard dropped a stack of papers onto the desk in front of him and looked up at her expectantly.

"You're joking." Beck stared at him. "A desk job?"

"Just until I can find a department head willing to take you in," Bernard told her. "In the meantime, have at it." He grinned smugly at her, and she vaguely wondered whether anyone would hear his screams of terror through the closed door. She saw red for a few moments until she realized he was still talking. "-And since it's not the busy season, I have nothing better to do than babysit you."

Beck swore at him. "We don't talk like that here," He said sternly. "You need to watch your language. But trust me, the feeling is mutual."

* * *

Beck spent the next hour alphabetizing letters to Santa. _Seriously_, she thought, _It's the day after Christmas. These kids sure move fast._ Then she had to sort orders from the departments for new supplies and parts, among other tedious tasks. All the while, Bernard sat at his desk, filling out his own paperwork.

_Christmas requires a lot more paperwork than it used to._

"Wow – just wow."

"What?" Bernard looked up from his work, annoyed. Beck was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by inventory sheets and order forms.

"This is not what I expected for the Head Elf."

"What do you mean?" He inquired in a monotone, neatening a stack of papers and putting them into a manila envelope.

"This is so – _mundane_. I expected your job to be a little more exciting." Just as she said that, an alarm went off that rattled the very walls.

"_ELFCON ONE. ELFCON ONE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT: THIS IS NOT A DRILL."_

"Knock on wood," Bernard stood and looked at Beck.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" She followed him down a hallway, down another hallway, down dozens more hallways. She noticed that all the other elves had become almost motionless, and completely silent (aside from the deafening alarm, that is).

"Okay, what exactly is happening?" She inquired, her voice rising over the alarm.

Bernard hushed her. "ElfCon One," He informed her. "It's our security system. Chances are it's just a plane, but we can't be too careful." He led her to a red-and-white pole in the middle of the floor and told her to hang on.

"Why?" Beck asked, raising an eyebrow.

"_Just do it_."

She followed his orders, and he did the same. Bernard opened a small, nearly invisible hatch in the pole and punched in a series of numbers, the beeps sounding suspiciously like "Jingle Bells." The floor seemed to jolt, and Beck soon realized that a platform was raising them up through a newly opened hole in the ceiling. They passed into a dark control-room, and Beck stepped off the platform. Bernard opened another hatch, unfolding two handlebars and peering through a scope.

"This one's flying really low," He observed worriedly. He made his way to a younger-looking, chubby elf who was seated at a control panel – one that was emitting a series of fast beeps. There was a radar screen with a dot quickly closing in on the origin.

"It's an A-10," The younger elf explained.

"What is an _A-frosting-10_ doing at the North Pole?" Bernard clenched his jaw. Beck just looked around at the control room in awe. He pulled a few levers and gears before peering at the radar once more. "Brace yourselves," Bernard warned just before the whole room shook violently, throwing a few elves from their stations. Beck was knocked to the floor, while he held fast to the pole.

The tremors soon stopped however, and the beeping from the radar slowed down, eventually ceasing altogether. There was a moment of silence, before someone pulled a lever, silencing the alarm. The workers in the room began applauding, and Bernard went around with handshakes.

"Another crisis averted."

Beck shakily got to her feet. She ran her fingers through her mussed hair and looked around, bewildered.

A girl turned to her and snorted. "Newbie. You're not going to throw up, are you? Somebody get her the puke bucket!" She called to her comrades.

"_Idonotneedthepukebucket_," Beck snarled at her, grabbing onto the back of the girl's swivel chair and yanking on it, causing her to spin out of her seat. She composed herself and made her way over to Bernard, stepping over equipment. "What the hell was that?"

He paused in looking over plans for upgrading the security. "That was a plane. You know, the big metal birds in the sky?"

"Thanks for clearing that up for me." She leaned against the control panel. "So, even the North Pole's gotta keep up with the Joneses, huh?"

Bernard went back to the pole, and she followed him. "As the rest of the world progresses, we need to progress in order to hide ourselves." They began their descent into the now busy hallway. "Not only to keep a certain magic and mystery to Christmas, but to protect the elves from exploitation. We've had to upgrade our security recently, after an incident involving Jack Frost. Thankfully I was taking a sabbatical that year, but God, there was so much paperwork." They reached his office once again. "And every time something like this happens, every time there's a security breach, there's even more paperwork. Filling out reports, damage assessment, not to mention paying the workers overtime to reset the system." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hardly have time for my own job, let alone you. So get to work."

"Well, aren't you just delightful to be around?" Beck mumbled, turning back to her work and opening up a thick manila envelope. Bernard, whose head was already bent over his desk, writing, wasn't listening.

Beck looked at him, trying to see the shy, gawky boy from her youth, but had no such luck. He had really grown up, she noticed. But she would _never_ admit it. Nor would she admit that in truth, his busy ways and strict purposefulness impressed her to the point of intimidation.

* * *

**_Chapter Four up! _**

**_It's a bit shorter than the last ones, but I felt bad for leaving you guys hanging. As a reader, I know how easy it is to lose interest in a story._**

**_Review Please! Critiques welcome!_**


	5. Chapter 5

The next several hours passed with Beck sullenly continuing her work and shooting glares at Bernard. He completely ignored her, calmly signing documents and performance reports.

When Beck finished, she left her papers stacked neatly in piles on the floor and sat against the wall, pulling an emery board from her pocket.

The room was silent but for the "zip" of the nail file, and it grated on Bernard's nerves. He tried to ignore it.

_Zip. Zip. Zip. Zzzip._

His grip tightened on the forms in front of him and he tried to block it out.

_Zip. Zip._

His fingers twitched and he drummed them impatiently on the mahogany desk. A blue vein appeared in his forehead.

_Zzzzzzzip._

He tore his gaze from the papers and slapped them down on the wood surface, annoyed. He glared at his charge, but Beck was completely engrossed in her nails. He noticed that they were short and neat, the cuticles well-cared for. She didn't have working hands. They were small and delicate, soft like a child's.

Beck breathed on her nails and shined them on her shirt, pulling her hand away to examine them. Bernard decided to let it go and concentrated on his work.

_Pop. Pop. Pop._

He froze, pen in mid-air.

_Crrrack._

He slammed the forms down once again. "Seriously?"

"What?" Beck looked up with wide, innocent eyes, hands poised to crack the knuckles on the other hand.

_Pop._

"That is disgusting."

"Oh?" Beck continued to stare at him. She rolled her shoulders, relieving them from their sockets for a moment. She tried to suppress a smile when Bernard visibly cringed, clenching his jaw. He glared at her again. "Is it? Is it _really_?" She placed one hand on her jaw, her other arm wrapping around her head. Her mouth twisted into a crooked grin.

"Beck…" He said through his teeth, standing and pointing at her warningly.

She raised her eyebrows and her mouth formed into a mock-shocked "O" shape.

"Don't do it-"

_CRRRRRRRRRRACK._

"UGH! _So_ disgusting!" Bernard shuddered as Beck rolled her neck, popping the vertebrae back into place. He sat back down, shuddering once again.

Beck stood up from her spot on the floor, stretching and belching loudly.

"Ladylike." Bernard muttered dryly.

"I know," Beck sighed. "My grandmother called it 'rifting.' Classy, huh?" She fussed with her hair. "Can you point me in the direction of the little girls' room? They've changed the layout since I've been exiled."

Bernard caught her bitter tone and corrected her. "_Suspended_. There's a difference. And why?" He bent over his desk again.

Beck planted her hands on the wooden surface and leaned in so that her face was right by his. He realized she was there and looked up slowly, starting when her face was in his. Her eyes were narrowed aggressively and she smelled like red cedar.

"_Because I have to urinate_." She murmured as if she were talking to a small child, smirking at his uncomfortable expression. Bernard's pointed ears turned bright red and he stared at her awkwardly for a moment.

"Uh – down the hall and to your left?"

She leaned closer and breathed in his ear, "Much obliged." She breezed out of the room. Until then, Bernard hadn't realized that he had been holding his breath.

* * *

When Beck exited the stall, she stopped at the mirror to check her heavy eye makeup and pull down the neckline of her v-neck a little more. A group of younger elves were standing by the sinks whispering and giggling, and when she raised a predatory eyebrow at them, they silenced immediately.

Beck strolled out of the restroom and stopped for a moment, thoughtful. She looked down the hallway towards Bernard's office and walked in the opposite direction.

She wandered around the workshop for a while, smirking at the elves that would see her and then walk quickly away. Soon a sweet, warm aroma wafted towards her. Beck followed her nose down another hallway until she heard the bustling and clinking noises of the kitchen.

The room was several degrees warmer than the hall, heavy with steam. Elves in aprons and chef's hats rushed by her busily, holding their ingredients and confections. Beck noticed one of the dishwashers glance at her and quickly, nervously, hide the kitchen knives he had finished washing in a drawer. Beck was annoyed at the paranoid gesture, but was almost tickled that she had left such an impression. She sauntered over to a platter piled high with snicker doodles, and plucked one off the top, chewing gleefully. She smiled to herself as a cook swept by and removed the tray from her immediate vicinity, shooting her a dirty look.

* * *

Bernard glanced at the grandmother clock on the wall, its pendulum having ceased its swinging decades ago. Beck had been gone for twenty minutes.

He clenched his jaw again, cursing himself for not foreseeing this.

_Honestly, what did I expect?_

He stood and grabbed his satchel, leaving his office hurriedly. He had a few choice words for his charge.

* * *

Beck reveled in the power that was at her fingertips; she could stroll around at will with no one brave enough to stop her. She swiped some icing off of a cake as she passed, licking her finger. No one stopped her. In fact, most of the diminutive elves in the workshop kitchen strove to avoid direct eye contact altogether.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else?" a voice said from behind her. She turned to see the chubby Number Two elf, Curtis.

"Maybe. I don't know. I think the Boss Man had it all under control." She shrugged nonchalantly, hopping up to sit on the counter. Curtis peered up at her from behind his glasses. He wasn't afraid of her. He had heard stories, but had never met Beck in the past, having still been in elf school when she was suspended. She swung her legs and smirked. He had no idea what she could do.

"Listen, Calvin-"

"It's _Curtis_."

"It's _irrelevant_."

"_Beck_." She heard Bernard bark from the doorway of the kitchen. She rolled her eyes and grabbed a toothpick from a nearby jar, picking her teeth with it. The other elves tried to look busy. "Just what are you doing? You were supposed to come right back!" He marched up to her, huffily, trying to look authoritative.

"I don't recall you ever telling me to come back at all." She yawned, flicking the toothpick away so that it landed in a passing elf's hair. "You were too busy blushing and acting obnoxiously awkward. Just a tip – ladies like the confident type." She winked.

Bernard took a deep breath, irritated. This was so like Beck; she was trying to embarrass him and get him off track, the little tart. He pressed on. "What are you even doing in here? Last time I checked, the cooks had to threaten you do keep you out of the kitchen."

"Ha-ha." She muttered. "I was _hungry_."

"Right. It's not like I was going to neglect to _feed_ you, Beck." Truthfully, Bernard _had_ forgotten, but not on purpose. Half the time, he forgot to feed himself.

"I'm sure." Beck folded her arms across her chest, knowing full well that her cleavage was being further pushed at the already dangerously low neckline. She smirked at the knowledge that people were staring.

"You still have loads of work to do, and you're coming back one way or another. How about you save us both the trouble?" Bernard determinedly stared at her face, fully aware that her "assets" were saying hello. He knew exactly what she was doing, and would not let her win. Meanwhile, Curtis had slipped out, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

Beck hopped down from the counter and stood face-to-face with him. He was trying to use the same tactic he had when convincing her to come back to the Pole quietly (so to speak). She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of it working on her again. "How about I _light you on fire_?" She spat venomously. She may have come back, but Hell would freeze over before she would make this easy for him.

"Beck, stop it. You're making a scene." He hissed at her, glancing around them.

"Oh? What told you that?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

_Two can play at this game._ "It's a gift. I'm an adept people-watcher." He stated dryly.

Beck cast a sideways glance at a nearby chef who was icing a cake. She elbowed her in a chummy way. "This guy-" - she gestured to Bernard - "says I'm making a scene. Is that not the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard?"

The girl nervously shifted from foot to foot. "Uh…"

"See, if I was making a scene I would be doing this!" She hoisted herself up onto the counter, grabbing a wooden spoon.

"Beck-"

She sidestepped the food on the counter, banging on pots and pans that hung from the ceiling.

"Get down from there!" Bernard had completely lost his patience. He followed her along the counter. "You just wait until I get a hold of Santa! The Council won't just suspend you this time! EVER HEARD OF PURGATORY?" He threatened.

Beck completely ignored him. "If I was making a scene, I would knock this cake over! She walked up to the six-tier cake and with a swift movement of her foot, kicked it onto the floor. It collided with the tile face-down with a _smoosh_. She hopped down from the counter. The entire kitchen was in panic mode at this point.

"I would do _this_!" She gleefully walked along the length of the counter, shoving past Bernard, and pulled every drawer out, scattering the contents on the floor. She grabbed a pitcher of Judy's special cocoa and walked up to Bernard again, so that their noses were nearly touching. "See? No scene here. I don't know what you're talking about." She slowly, deliberately emptied the drink down his front.

As the liquid stained his clothes, Bernard found himself thankful that the cocoa was made to never burn the skin. The workers in the kitchen had by now stopped what they were doing and were watching the exchange anxiously. He yanked the pitcher from her hand and threw it to the floor angrily.

"Let's _go_." He grabbed her arm.

"Don't _touch_ me!" She snapped at him, violently taking back possession of her limb. "You don't get to touch me, ever." She declared harshly.

Bernard stopped at her words. He didn't know why, but they struck a chord in him. The two stared at each other and he saw something in her eyes; bitterness, of course, but also something akin to the expression one might see on an injured stray cat. He wanted to look away, but that would be like backing down. So he held her gaze and said, "Alright everyone! Nothing to see here! Back to work!" The kitchen buzzed to life once again. Then he addressed her directly, sternly. "If you think I'm just going to let you have your way all the time, you are sadly mistaken. I am the Head Elf, and _you_ are on probation. This will not be tolerated. You are going to clean all of this up, _right now_."

"Well gee, Mussolini," Beck remarked snidely as he pushed a mop and bucket into her hands. "Someone really knows how to run a camp."

"That was Hitler," He corrected her.

She rolled her eyes again. "Whatever. Regardless, they were both tyrants."

* * *

Bernard ignored her complaints and waited while she cleaned up every last bit of cake, every last drop of the now cold cocoa. She finished replacing the utensils in their proper places in the drawers and sighed, tracing the tiles with her sneaker.

"So are you going to feed me, or what?" Her bravado was gone, but her attitude and impatience was not.

Bernard rolled his eyes. "I won't forget about you."

"Where have I heard that before?" Her voice was soft again, bitter.

Bernard looked back at her, stung. She pointedly looked away from him, hands on her hips. Beck wanted to scream at him. _Who are you? This is so messed up! I want things to be like they were!_

"Let's go."

* * *

_**Hey guys! **_

_**Sorry I kind of dropped off the face of the earth, there. I was banned from the computer.**_

_**Don't drink gin, kids. It messes with your head.**_

_**So anyway, what's happened in the time since I was a lush?**_

_**Well, we've got about four feet of snow here on the ground in good ol' Maryland. Thank goodness I live below the Mason Dixon line, where we get an inch of snow and folks put chains on their tires.**_

_**Why should you care?**_

_**Because I've had lots of time to work on the story for y'all.**_

_**You are all very welcome.**_

_**Hopefully I can get some more chapters out very soon to make up for my hiatus!**_

_**And thank you to everyone who has read, favorited, alerted, and most of all, reviewed my story. It really means the world to me. You guys help keep me going. :)**_

**_Review please! Critiques welcome!!_**


	6. Chapter 6

When they reached Bernard's office once again, Beck slumped into a chair and sulked while Bernard called Curtis up with a walkie-talkie that he had in his satchel. For a moment Beck wondered where the North Pole got the money for these kinds of expenses, but quickly remembered the cheap child labor downstairs.

Curtis quickly made his entrance, casting a wary glance at Beck, who met him with an icy stare.

"Curtis, can you do me a favor and bring in a couple of subs? I've got a lot on my plate right now and I just can't swing it, time-wise."

He was rewarded with a surly attitude. "I'm the Number-Two elf, not your assistant!"

"Have you got anything better to do?"

There was a pause.

"No."

"Have them charge it to my account." Bernard sat back in his chair and examined a fresh stack of documents, dismissing the grumbling elf. He grabbed more papers and got up. _I've really got to get an assistant._

"Well, you're a regular slave-driver, aren't you?" Beck snarled as he stood before her, dropping the stack into her lap.

"I guess so." He said simply and sat back down at his desk.

Beck looked from the work to Bernard and then back again, disgusted. "Dude. What happened to you? You're so _different_." She inwardly cringed. Beck made it a personal rule never to get into the mushy, existential stuff.

"So are you," He told her pointedly. He chewed on the end of his pen absently, a habit from when they were younger.

"That's not what I meant." Beck watched his hands, annoyed. "We used to be best friends. What happened?"

He fixed her with a hardf look. "You picked sides." Beck stared back at him, eyes narrowed.

"So did you."

* * *

The two sat in silence until Curtis returned with a paper bag and receipt, which he handed to Bernard. This time, he made sure to make no eye contact whatsoever with Beck. He hurried out, mumbling something about a malfunction in wrapping.

Bernard pulled a sandwich out and tossed it to Beck, who caught it in mid-air. She glanced at the wrapper. "Quiznos? Really? Like I said before, way to keep up with the Joneses."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he ignored her. Beck rolled her eyes and tucked in to what she identified as some variety of Italian cold-cut sub. The two ate in stony silence, and the awkwardness ate at Beck's insides. Had he been anyone else, she might have lightened the mood with some mildly offensive quip, her favorite being, "So, the Ebola virus. That's gotta suck."

Circumstances being what they were, she wisely kept her mouth shut.

* * *

After the two ate, Bernard showed Beck how to fill out the next set of forms; Beck soon forgot what they were even about, the task was so tedious. She leaned back in the stiff wooden chair and squeezed her eyes shut, giving them a break from staring at the tiny black and white text. _This nonsense is so not worth my time._

The two of them both wrote in the ornate cursive characteristic of turn-of-the-century schooling. Bernard's, like his personality, was mild and neat, patient and organized. In contrast, Beck's was chaotic and angry, jagged and abrasive.

* * *

"Ugh!" After several hours of working, Beck slammed the back of her head on the wall behind her, covering her face with the stark-white papers. "How can you do this, day in and day out? It makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a splintery wooden spoon, and then deep-fry them in Antifreeze!"

Bernard looked disturbed. He regained his composure and said, "I don't do this all year; just in the early season and when things are slow. Otherwise, I'm either supervising the workers and fixing disasters or advising Santa." He drummed his fingers on the desk, annoyed at how little she knew about his job, as if she had taken a course on it. Beck's jaw dropped open.

"I'm not gonna lie; that sounds pretty fuckin' awful." She rested her cheek on her fist.

"Watch your language," He ordered. "And thank you."

"I do what I can," She shrugged, grinning wryly. "I don't know what it is about me; I guess I have a soft spot for people who are passionate about such complete nonsense."

"Christmas is not nonsense!" The Head Elf was indignant.

"Give me one good reason why!" Beck shot back. "All Christmas is, is an excuse for your in-laws to make jackass remarks with no backlash, for people to get massively drunk and embarrass themselves at office parties," She stood up; she was on a roll, "-and for children to be as spoiled as possible, _whining-_" -here she faked an obnoxious baby voice, advancing on Bernard's desk- "'Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, _mommy_!' And when they grow up, they'll all have a rude awakening when they realize that you can't always get what you want! It's just sick! It is the worst form of child abuse!"

She was incensed, now leaning over the desk in his face. "Did you know that suicides increase tenfold during the holiday season? Christmas spirit in the mortal world is diminishing more and more every year! I don't know why the North Pole's still up here, dealing with all this trivial crap. You know what? You suck. Christmas sucks. And I hope you all choke on your big, dumb fruitcake!" She finished, her voice rising to a rough, near-shrieking pitch. She stopped, catching her breath, face flushed. She stared at Bernard who was inches away, perfectly composed.

Suddenly he stood up and raised his hand as if to slap her in the face, much like a parent whose child had talked back to them. But he caught himself, lowering his hand sheepishly. He looked at the offending appendage, wilted.

"What, are you going to slap me? Go right ahead! It wouldn't be the first time I've been knocked around!" She spat venomously.

"What?" Bernard said, shocked. _Who would hit a woman?_

"You want a fight? You've got one. Go ahead; hit me!" She stuck out her jaw at him, pointing at the boniest part. She said the words over and over again, like a broken record, trying desperately to get a rise out of him. Beck wanted something to happen, something just had to give.

Bernard stared at her, wondering what she expected to get out of this. He knew her. She enjoyed breaking people. But her own strings seemed to have snapped somehow. _Somehow_, He inwardly scoffed, _She did this to herself._

He walked around the desk, holding his hands out before him defensively. "I'm not going to _hit_ you, Beck. Get a hold of yourself-"

A fist that seemed to come out of nowhere collided with the side of his face, and he saw stars for a few moments. His head spun and he tried to regain his balance.

_Hello, little birdie. What lovely earmuffs. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…_

He shook himself out of it and stared at his charge, who was enraged and winded. With strength he didn't know he had, he grabbed her shoulders firmly in his hands and forced her back down into her chair. "Sit _down_, Rebecca. _Get. A. Grip._" He ordered through clenched teeth.

"Don't call me that. And you can bet I'll get a grip. I'll get a grip on your throat." She continued mumbling in this manner as someone knocked on the door.

Bernard cast a look at Beck, but she didn't seem to be going anywhere, so he cracked the door open an inch. Judy stood there, with a few elves standing behind her. They looked concerned. Bernard relaxed and opened the door a little wider at the sight of them.

"Bernard?" She started timidly. "We heard shouting coming from your office. Is everything alright?" She looked past Bernard at Beck, who was still in her chair, and was greeted with a sadistic grin.

Bernard pinched the bridge of his nose, wearily. "Yes, Judy. Everything's fine, I promise. I have everything under control."

"But you have a bruise on your cheek-"

"Everything's _fine_."

Judy looked unconvinced, but let the matter drop. "Well, we were just about to punch out-"

_That time already?_

"-but don't hesitate to call if you need assistance." She told him.

Beck scoffed from behind the Head Elf. _Yeah, right. I eat little china dolls like you for breakfast._

"Thank you, Judy. I'll see you tomorrow." He bid them all good evening and shut the door, leaning against it and massaging his neck.

"Judy and Bernard, sitting in a tree…" He heard her softy chant. He ignored the childish rhyme. He would not let her win. Not only was his job on the line, but so was everything he stood for. He had to clear the name of Christmas in Beck's eyes. He had to, and he would do it if it killed him-

A crumpled up paper ball hit the back of his head.

-But that didn't mean he had to like it.

He whirled around and marched over to the still-seated Beck, and furiously planted both hands on the wall on either side of her head. "Listen, you bratty little terrorist! _I_ am the Head Elf, and we are going to be doing things _my_ way. You want wallow in your own misery and cynicism, go right ahead. But do not mess with everyone else's Christmas! Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me for the next year, so you had better get used to it. You are one smart-mouthed comment away from mucking out the reindeer stalls, and I can tell you right now that the stable team will _not_ make it easy for you. Do I make myself clear?"

He shocked himself with this outburst. Sure, he was short and snippy with the other elves, but that was just because there were things that needed to be done. He had never full-on _blown up_ at anyone before. Beck seemed to have shrunk in her seat as he stared down at her, and Bernard pictured steam escaping his nostrils. Her arms were folded crossly, and she glared up at him.

"Swarovski _crystal_." She snarled.

He pushed off the wall and turned on his heel to go back to his desk. As he packed some work into his satchel, "We're clocking out now. Ordinarily I work after hours, but I think we've had enough excitement for one day."

* * *

He walked her back to the apartment building, Beck dragging her feet and pouting immaturely. Her converse sneakers were soaked by this time, and she shivered. Bernard offered her his scarf, but she shot him a dirty look.

"Suit yourself."

* * *

They arrived at Beck's apartment, and Bernard unlocked the door for her. Beck stepped inside, but he stopped her.

"Beck-"

She turned around, rolling her eyes dramatically. Bernard briefly wondered what kind of effect on one's health excessive eye rolling could potentially have. "I know, I know. Best behavior tomorrow. Got it, boss." She mock-saluted.

_Boss?_ "I was going to say goodnight."

She stared blankly. "I hope you die in your sleep."

"You know, asinine comments aside, you're only mildly unpleasant." He observed dryly. "Kind of like going to the dentist, or swallowing kitty litter. You just have to close your eyes and wait for it to be over."

"You're the expert."

The door was then slammed in his face.

* * *

_**Hoo, Nellie!**_

**_It's only 10:45 and I am FRIED._**

**_But I promised a new chapter by the end of the weekend and BY GOLLY I will deliver!_**

**_Now I'm going to get some beauty rest; workouts start tomorrow._**

**_Prom season is upon us, kids, and no one wants to look like a giant molting crustacean in a dress!_**

**_Well, not me, anyway. What you guys are into is your business._**

**_I'm currently pumping myself up by listening to some "Eye of the Tiger" and Rick Astley._**

**_I WILL RICK ROLL THAT ELLIPTICAL._**

**_Review Please! Critiques welcome!_**


	7. A Note From the Author, Plus Teaser

**_Hey, guys. I hope I'm not dead to you for not updating in the past...how long has it been? Two months. Two months and two weeks, to be precise. Wow._**

**_Things have been kind of hectic around here, as per usual. I'm currently failing math (yay), and SATs are coming up. There are far too many graduation parties to keep up with, and I have to worry about getting money to go to New Orleans (because I'm spending it all on graduation gifts...), AND I have a French project that was due two weeks ago. I'm also preoccupied with desperately trying to slim down, but at this rate, I'm thinking I'll just stay inside all summer._**

**_So yeah. Not that I'm making excuses or anything, I just have a hell of a lot on my plate right now. For those of you waiting for updates, I _promise_ I am working on the next chapter. I like them to be at least 5 pages in Word before I upload, and I've filled up two so far. I should get back into the swing of things once I put it up, but it's getting there that's the trick._**

**_Anyway, my writing style is very disorganized and sporatic, so it's happened, as in this case, that I will write several chapters ahead, and not do the next chapter. But couldn't leave you guys hanging for long, so here's a little teaser excerpt from an upcoming chapter:_**

* * *

Beck stared up at the night sky. "It's sad, isn't it?"

"Hm?" Bernard perked up. "What's sad?

"I don't know. The stars." Beck chewed on her straw.

Bernard looked up at the sky. "I can't see them," he said.

"Exactly. See, it wouldn't matter to mortals, because that's the way it's been for most of their lives." She plucked some grass out of the ground. "But we remember how it was before. When we could see the stars, and not just satellites. But that's life. Things change, and sometimes it's better to not know 'what if.'" She tied the grass in a knot and tossed it aside.

Bernard couldn't decide whether or not she was still referring to the stars. "Well," he cleared his throat again, "Sometimes the smog can be suffocating. It may be a pain to clear but at least we can breathe when all is said and done," he reasoned.

"That's beautiful."

"That's logic."

"Well, it's beautiful logic."

Bernard leaned back on his hands to contemplate the murky sky through the netting of the goal. _Maybe Beck is right,_ he thought, taking a sip of his blue raspberry Slurpee; _maybe some things are better left a mystery._ When he looked back down, he was met with Beck's penetrating stare.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked.

"Shoot."

* * *

_**DUN DUN DUNNN.**_

**_See you all (hopefully) soon!_**


	8. Chapter 7

Beck awoke to knocking on her apartment door.

"Mmmph…"

She rolled out of bed and stumbled to the door. "Don't tell me you've decided to knock now!" She growled as it was opened from the other side.

"You know, formalities and all." Bernard breezed past her, Curtis in tow. The Number Two elf was loaded down with grocery bags, and trudged over to deposit them on the kitchen table. He turned around. Once he was facing Beck, she snarled and fake-lunged at him. He jumped and quickly made his exit.

"GottagoBernardokaybye!"

Beck smirked and crossed her arms, turning her gaze triumphantly to Bernard. She noted the large purple bruise that had bloomed on his cheekbone.

"You know, I don't care what anyone says. You're a delight!" He mocked underhandedly as Beck started sifting through the bags. "I had Curtis pick up some groceries."

"_Doy_. Why?" She ran her fingers through her bed head and rubbed the back of her calf with her foot, yawning.

"Because you're going to be living here?" He was losing his patience already. _"Doy?" I haven't heard that word in decades._

"'Kay, whatever." Beck started to amble off.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower." She mumbled, scratching her belly.

"No you're not. You're going to help put all of this away." Bernard ordered, pulling some cans out of a bag and putting them away.

"I'll do it _later_," Beck whined.

"You'll do it _now_."

She scowled and stomped back to the table. Beck dumped the contents of the bags onto the counter and gave him a look as he scribbled something in his leather bound agenda.

"A day planner? Seriously?" He ignored her and sat down as she started busily shoving the groceries into cabinets.

When Beck was dressed, she met Bernard by the door. He raised an eyebrow at the top that exposed a bit of skin on her freckled midriff. "That's not appropriate for the workplace."

"What?"

"We're making _children's toys_. That kind of clothing is inappropriate and unprofessional."

"Unprofessional? Half the elves here wear pointy shoes."

Bernard made a circular motion with his pointer finger, signaling for her to turn around and go back. Rolling her eyes, she spun on her heels and trudged back to her room.

When Beck returned in a different shirt, the two left in a flurry of snow and bickering.

* * *

When they arrived at the workshop, the elves were still cleaning up from the party two days before. A few rooms still needed straightening up after the Christmas Eve rush, as well. Beck trudged after Bernard into his office.

"Today, we work returns."

Beck paused. "Returns? I thought this was the North Pole, not Bloomingdales."

"Commercial influence on children's lives has kind of paved the way," Bernard informed her, picking up a new stack of papers and placing them on his desk. "So after Christmas, a flood of presents bounces back at us."

"Why is that?" Beck asked, curious.

"Oh, any number of reasons. The child already has one, it's not the 'cool' new thing, or they simply don't like it. Very rarely does a toy come back due to poor workmanship." He said this last part with inalienable pride.

_Very big deal_, Beck scoffed inwardly. But she was troubled; why send presents back? She knew that Christmas spirit was in short supply at the moment, but this was the equivalent of slapping Santa in the face. And Bernard had just stated it matter-of-factly, as if it was a fact of life. It shocked her how holiday spirit had plummeted so fast.

Not that she cared, of course.

"Take these," Bernard pushed some file folders stuffed to bursting with papers into her hands. "You'll be cataloguing what's been returned to the Pole. Alphabetize them by region, then by toy. It's mostly for research purposes, but resource allocation is crucial as well."

Beck gave a huffy sigh and pulled out the contents of the folders before sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. Bernard sat behind it in the large, leather office chair.

Soon there came a polite knock on the door. Judy came in, carrying a silver tea service (or, in this case, cocoa service). She greeted Bernard sweetly and set the tray on the desk.

"I'm Judy! You must be Beck." She introduced herself, extending a hand towards Beck.

"Guilty." The redhead responded with a flat stare, ignoring the appendage. Judy smiled awkwardly and let her hand drop to her side.

"So," Judy began, rocking back on her heels. This was followed by an uncomfortable silence. Bernard stared off to the side somewhere and awkwardly nodded at nothing. At a loss for appropriate words, he poured himself a cup of the cocoa.

"It's a new recipe," Judy told him, jumping at an opportunity for real conversation and moving to sit in the empty chair beside Beck. Before she could, Beck loudly plunked her foot onto the seat. Judy seemed a bit perplexed by this, and stood there for a few moments, pondering a plan of action.

"Beck," Bernard barked.

Beck smiled cheekily at him. He glared at her. "Alright, alright!" she rolled her eyes and removed her foot from the chair. Judy took a seat, letting the other girl's rudeness roll off her back.

"This is good," Bernard remarked, sipping his drink. "What's in it?"

"It's a secret," The dark haired girl grinned, but checked herself; "Well, mostly because it's illegal in a bunch of countries and the FDA hasn't exactly approved it yet."

"When have you ever followed the FDA's regulations?" Bernard seemed unfazed.

"I prefer to think of them as 'guidelines.' Do you need ice for that?" She motioned to her face, indicating his injury.

"Thanks, but as far as ice goes, I think I'm set." He shot a pointed look at his sullen charge.

"I will dent your face." She threatened.

"Covered." He pointed to his bruise with a wry smile. Beck simmered.

"Anyway, the real reason I'm here is to remind you of the Legendary Figures meeting today."

Bernard looked up in shock. "That was _today_?" He yanked out his black book and frantically flipped through it. "I swear I would have written it down. Santa's not even _here_ right now!"

"Apparently it couldn't wait. They want to meet with Beck."

"Oh, okay." Beck rolled her eyes, dropping the stack of forgotten work onto the floor. "They suddenly want to acknowledge my existence."

"And you're completely innocent in this." Bernard said tensely.

"It's not my fault that J-" Beck stopped herself and wet her lips. She looked as if she was struggling for a moment, then sighed and looked away, seemingly defeated.

"What's that? No snotty comeback?" Bernard asked. Judy looked back and forth between the two nervously.

"Just forget it." Beck mumbled, staring at the wall, but he persisted.

"No, I'm sure you have something interesting to say in response. I wanna hear it."

"Leave it _alone_." She insisted softly. Something in her voice made him stop. She fiddled with the ends of her hair. Bernard gazed down at his shoes.

Judy glanced at the clock. "I should let you know that it's in about ten minutes."

His head snapped up. "And you couldn't tell me about this earlier _why_?"

She good-naturedly rolled her eyes at him, smiling. "As if I have nothing else to do, besides make sure the _Head Elf_ is constantly on the ball."

Beck snorted. "I hear that." She glanced up at Judy with a slightly less-than-malevolent gaze. _Sweetness is starting to speak my language._

The Head Elf leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He stood as if it took a great deal of effort. "I guess we should head to the conference room." He said, deflated. He picked up his satchel.

"I have to get back to the kitchen to get refreshments ready for the Legendary Figures." Judy excused herself and left.

Beck and Bernard headed for the door. When Bernard lightly placed a hand on her back to guide her in the right direction down the hallway, she jerked away as if she had been electrocuted. "_Sorry_. Didn't realize that that was so completely out of line," He remarked. Bernard was annoyed. Why was she treating him like this? He had been completely prepared to be civil to her when he found her in New York. Okay, so maybe he hadn't exactly been the most warm, _snuggly_ person on Earth, but he certainly hadn't been flat out _vicious_. That seemed to be Beck's department. She shot him a sideways glance and tensely continued walking without another word.

* * *

The two silently made their way through the labyrinth of hallways to a set of ornate wooden doors. Bernard opened the door to what appeared to be the current Santa's office. It was devoid of people at the present time, but they would soon be arriving. A long conference table had been brought in, but neither of them took a seat. Bernard stood with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting patiently, while Beck wandered the room. The gaudy puppets in the miniature theatre across the room chattered excitedly. When she passed by, they shrieked loudly, startling her, and ducked beneath the little window and out of sight.

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm the racing heartbeat that seemed to be erupting from her ears, Beck backed away from the theatre window. Then, it seemed as soon as she got her nerves under control, the doors opened again, giving her another fright. She moved behind a wide, ancient carved pillar and watched as Legendary figures began to file inside. She noticed a few small shards of glass lodged in the wood and felt a rush of unpleasant memories. She wished, more than anything, to be back in her dingy apartment in Queens, and to forget everything.

Unfortunately she still remembered, and so did the Figures who were now taking their seats at the table. "Beck," The Head Elf called her over. She moved around the pillar, running her hand over the smooth, worn wood, and watching those at the table (who were now all staring) with a guarded expression.

She pulled out the heavy chair next to Bernard's and didn't so much sit as fall into the chair. She tapped out a beat on the edge of the table for a few moments before leaning back in her chair and facing Mother Nature.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

"This meeting has been called in order to reintegrate Ms. Adler into the Pole and begin to find her a suitable position." The statuesque woman addressed the Council. She opened her mouth to speak again, just as the doors reopened with a _bang_.

"Honey, I'm home!" Came the smooth voice that made Beck's hair stand on end. She refused to turn around and look at him. From the corner of her eye, she watched Bernard bristle.

"So nice of you to join us, Jack Frost," Mother Nature greeted him shortly.

"I'm not so sure I appreciate your tone, Mother Nature." He placed a hand on his chest in a mock-hurt way. "And, I must say, I'm rather offended."

Cupid spoke up. "Just because we re-froze you, doesn't mean we have to like you." He told him bluntly.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jack wagged a finger at him. "While you don't have to like me, you all know you _need_ me." He straightened his jacket with a smirk. It was true; after his failed attempt at taking over the Pole, he had to be quickly refrozen as there was no one else who was able to herald the season. In the few weeks before he was restored to his magical state, the world had been a mess. Glaciers and frozen earth melted at an accelerated pace, and widespread floods had occurred. National governments were tripping over themselves in the cleanup and humanitarian efforts, but there just wasn't enough help and money to go around. The Council of Legendary Figures had to intervene to avoid more disaster.

"You're late," Father Time reminded him.

"I was a bit preoccupied, I'll admit, but better late than never, am I right? Besides, I would hate to miss seeing an _old friend_." His hand closed over the back of Beck's chair. She sat stiffly, staring blankly straight ahead. Bernard watched the two of them, puzzled.

Keeping his hand on the back of her chair, he rested his other hand on the table, leaning over her shoulder and cutting off Bernard in the process. He glared at the taller man, who was rudely invading his personal space.

"Long time no see, Beck." He flashed an obscenely white smile.

"Get away from me." She told him levelly, robotically. Her small hands gripped the edge of the table in front of her.

"_If you will all take your seats_," Mother Nature said pointedly, looking directly at Jack, "We are ready to begin."

* * *

_**So. This is a tad awkward.**_

_**Hi guys! It's good to be back? I hope you haven't forgotten about me!**_

_**Wow. Things sure have changed since March. I lost fifty pounda, for one (and I'm not exaggerating! :D), and I've been accepted to three colleges so far. I feel so old!**_

_**I meant to upload this on Christmas but I'm just uploading this at 5:30AM the day after. See what I go through for you guys? Hahah.**_

_**Well, here's hoping my long bout of writer's block has begun to subside. I welcome any ideas for my story to help me along - EternalEclipse has promised to help me, which I'm grateful for because she's such a lovely writer and has great ideas. I'd like to keep a good, interactive relationship with my readers! So don't be shy, review and tell me what you think of the chapter that has given me nine months of trouble XD **_

_**Feel free to discuss ideas with me; constructive criticism is welcome!**_

_**Night! Er, morning! In any case, I'm going to pass out now!**_


	9. Chapter 8

Minutes after the meeting began, Beck zoned out. After steno pads and pens were passed out and she heard the words "occupation" and "disciplinary measures," she basically let her eyes glaze over.

She examined her nails. She cracked her knuckles. She gazed around the room idly. She rolled her eyes (again) when Bernard glared at her for fidgeting too much.

_Idle hands _are_ the devil's handiwork, after all._

Beck noticed Jack staring directly at her from across the table, and made a face of disgust. She tried to ignore him, but he made numerous efforts to gain her attention. He loudly tapped his fingers on the mahogany table. He cleared his throat.

After the third throat-clearing, Mother Nature paused, annoyed. "Would you like to say something, Jack?" He simply shook his head and swatted the air flippantly in response.

He even nudged her foot with his. Beck responded by sharply kicking him in the shins and pointedly looking away. She turned her gaze toward Mother Nature and made an exaggerated attempt to look attentive.

"…as Santa believes that Ms. Adler has potential as a successful Christmas elf, provided she receives the right counseling…"

Jack Frost, fed up, closed his eyes for a moment and made a flicking motion beneath the table. Beck gasped as she felt an icy breeze on her hands. She looked down and a small ice tablet materialized. She grabbed it, glancing around and hiding it under the table. Luckily, Bernard was leaning over the conference table, intently discussing with the Tooth Fairy his lack of time. He was saying something about how he was too busy to babysit a sociopath. Beck looked at Jack, who was looking away.

Beck turned her attention to the tablet. On it, a message was elegantly carved: _Let's discuss business. When can I see you?_

"What are your thoughts, Ms. Adler?" Mother Nature addressed the distracted redhead. Beck jumped and the ice message instantly evaporated.

"Huh?" Was her eloquent response. She stared blankly at the woman, slack-jawed, as a room full of Legendary Figures stared expectantly at her.

Beck was relieved when Judy chose this moment to glide in with a refreshment cart. "Cocoa and cookies, courtesy of the North Pole. I hope you all enjoy!" She curtsied at the room and shot a smile at Beck, who couldn't help but smile back.

When she left the room, Beck turned to Bernard. "Jeez, by the sound of her voice, you'd think she made a living baking cookies inside a hollow tree." He elbowed her. "Ow!"

"Ms. Adler."

"Can you repeat the question?"

"Are you willing to work on your unresolved issues in order to become a better elf?" She spoke slowly, as if she was speaking to an idiot.

Beck slumped against the back of her chair. "Do I have a choice?"

"Bernard is willing to work with you, but he can only do so much. You need to be willing to change."

"So, Bernard is willing to work with me, now?" Beck looked at her flatly. "After, I don't know, _abandoning_ me in the human world?" She heard him shift uncomfortably beside her.

"He didn't abandon you. _Bernard_ was not responsible for-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm responsible for my own actions. I was left in the human world for an extra fifty-one years without any powers, but that's all on me. I am _so_ very sorry for that." Beck stared at the statuesque woman, daring her to contradict her words.

Mother Nature faltered, her momentum slowing. "Well – since the forties and increased mass production of toys, the Santas have had a lot on their plates to keep up…" Her voice faded when she realized that Beck was no longer listening, but staring at the opposite wall with a stony expression.

Mother Nature seemed to have given up, and moved on to the next item on the agenda. After another quick look around, Beck grabbed one of the numerous pens on the table and scribbled on her palm: _Meet me in the West Corridor_. The West Corridor of the workshop was typically deserted, as it consisted mostly of storage rooms. It was a dead-end hallway and she knew that they could meet without interruption.

Beck caught Jack's eye and discreetly flashed the message on her hand, camouflaging the action by fussing with her hair. A subtle chin jut in her direction let her know that they were on the same page. She tuned back into the meeting. It was the Easter Bunny's turn to speak, sharing his experience with disciplining his numerous progeny.

She was annoyed. _I'm sitting right here!_ She wanted to scream, insulted. She checked the time on the grandfather clock across the room and wilted when she saw that it had been forty-five minutes since the meeting had started.

She leaned in towards Bernard. "Are we done yet? She whispered in his ear, making him shiver at the unexpected contact. He shushed her.

"Just be patient and _try_ to act mature."

Beck gave a huffy breath and leaned her elbows on the table, resting her head in her hands and letting her mind drift.

* * *

_**Chr**__**istmas Eve, 1960**_

_In a women's boarding house in Kansas City, a young red-haired woman lugged two overstuffed suitcases down the last flight of stairs. She rested them by the front door, wiping her forehead with her arm. Then she turned to a mirror on the wall, fixing her hair._

_The other residents in the house had noticed a change in her behavior in the past month. She had become more reserved and preoccupied. Even her usual bawdy humor was subdued. And on this night, she had even traded her usual flannel shirt for a blue taffeta dress and heels._

_The landlady, a stout, pleasant woman, approached her. "Are you all set, Beck? You know, there's always a place for you here." She fixed her with a motherly gaze._

_Beck turned to her and smiled. "Thanks, Ethel, but I have a feeling things are going to be a little different from now on." She hugged the woman._

_"I hear she's got a boy coming for her," A girl in the next room gossiped to her friend giddily._

_"That's funny," the other girl remarked, "Judging by the way she usually dresses, you'd think she was interested in other things." Her companion looked scandalized._

_"Janie!" She giggled. Her friend shushed her. "You are so bad! Besides, she looks very nice tonight. Not at all like a mannish Beatnik." They guffawed._

"_Beck," Janie called to Beck. "Why not drink some eggnog with us? We've got an Elvis record on!" She raised her glass in invitation._

_Beck's ears perked up at the mention of the singer, but she frowned when she recognized her would-be companions. "No, thanks. My ride will be here any minute."_

_The night went on and the other women conversed and trimmed a large tree in the center of the room, casting occasional sympathetic glances at Beck and whispering. She was seated on one of her suitcases, staring out the front window with her slender, gloved hands resting folded in her lap. She looked distracted, occasionally glancing down at her watch impatiently. _

What time was it? I can't remember. Do they time it down to the minute?

_She sighed, and when she turned to look at the entrance of the dining room, the other women quickly turned away, pretending to be preoccupied._

_Around midnight, the last women were finally going to bed, trying to avoid eye contact with Beck, who hadn't moved from her spot. She wished them good night and Merry Christmas with a forced smile._

_Soon Beck was left sitting alone in the foyer. In the dim light of a single lamp, she looked down at her party dress and allowed her smile to fade._

_Things were not going to change tonight. She was just a girl in a pretty dress, waiting for nothing._

_She pulled on her coat and switched the lamp off, silently slipping out of the house and pointing her shoes in the direction of the highway._

_

* * *

_

Beck's hand slipped and she jerked awake when the tabletop made contact with her forehead. She sat up, bewildered. Things seemed to be wrapping up, and the Legendary Figures were beginning to vacate their seats. Beck stood and stretched languidly, scratching the back of her head. Jack quietly took his leave.

"You couldn't _pretend_ to be any more attentive?" Bernard asked disapprovingly.

"Did you say something?"

Bernard gave up trying to converse with her and walked away to mingle with the Legendary Figures.

* * *

Beck managed to slip out of Santa's office while Bernard was conversing with Father Time. As she made her way to the West Corridor, her soft footsteps were deafening in her pointed ears. When Beck reached her destination, she addressed Jack's turned back. "Why are you here, Frost?"

"Beck!" Jack greeted her in an overly-chummy tone. "To what do I owe this serendipity-doo-dah?" He strode over to her, arms extended as if expecting an embrace. She stopped him in his tracks.

* * *

Bernard caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. When he turned, he saw a flash of red exit the room. _Oh, for the love of…_ He excused himself and trotted down the hallway after his ward. He struggled to keep up, taking several wrong turns, but stopped when he heard muffled voices around the next corner.

* * *

"Leave me alone."

"Why the sudden ferocity?" Jack grinned. "Frankly, I'm hurt. There once was a time when you were much less…" He advanced on her. "_icy_ towards me. Don't you remember? _I_ certainly do."

Beck grimaced and put more space between them. "You're disgusting."

"You didn't think so back then." He leaned in and flashed another smile.

She sneered and stood her ground. "I was young and stupid."

"And yet here you are." Jack gestured to the deserted hallway.

"I'm not here for a God damn quickie, Frost. I'm here to give you a message." It was her turn to advance on Jack. "Stay away from me, and stay away from the North Pole. You can find someone else, because I'm done here." Beck turned on her heel and began to walk away.

"I'm here to deliver a message as well, Beck." Jack told her retreating form. "He is not pleased." Beck stopped.

"If you value your life, you will fall back into line. This is not up to you. It's not up to either of us." He walked closer to her turned back and glanced around them. His voice dropped. "He is more powerful than you realize. There is a force at work here that is over both our heads."

She stood silently for a moment and drew a thoughtful breath. "Call me when you grow a spine." She strode away.

"You made a deal, Beck." Jack called after her. She made a crude gesture over her shoulder. "You can't just walk away from this."

Beck smirked and turned around, opening her mouth for a comeback, but the words died on her lips when she saw that Jack Frost had vanished. She stood there in the silent, empty hallway and ran a hand through her hair. "You can come out, now, you know." Bernard stepped out into the hallway. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough." He said harshly, crossing his arms.

Beck held her breath. Her stomach dropped. She tried to mask her panic with a carefree laugh.

He looked at her suspiciously. "In what way are you involved with Jack Frost?"

_Way to get to the point. _She waved her hand in the air. "Oh, you know. We're pretty on-and-off. Although I hardly think my taste in men is any of your business." She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping that she sounded convincing. Bernard raised an eyebrow. "You look confused." She said.

"Frankly, I am. He's not exactly 'man of the year.'"

"Neither am I," Beck laughed. "It's nice to have stuff in common."

He looked taken aback at her oblique joke. "Don't you think he's a little, I don't know, _old_ for you?"

"I think you gave up any and all say in my love life fifty years ago." Beck breezed past Bernard, leaving him speechless.

* * *

**_And the plot thickens..._**

**_So I finally sat my ass down and cranked out this hot mess of a chapter. I expected to have it done within a week of the last chapter, but things have been really crazy and confusing for me lately. My health is not in the best of shape, and I'm likely to end up in the hospital sometime in the near future. So if I disappear, please don't panic! I will deliver!_**

**_Don't forget to review, alert, and favorite! Don't be afraid to message me to discuss my story, your story, or just life in general. Love you guys!_**


	10. Chapter 9

_Pop._

Bernard twitched. He and Beck were back in his office, finishing up filing the day's work. At least, _he _was. Beck, who was lounging against a bookshelf, had somehow gotten her hands on some chewing gum and was busily making a nuisance of herself.

_Smack._

She absently pulled the rubbery substance from her lips and cheek, before stuffing it back into her mouth and preparing a new bubble. She fanned herself with some document or other, chomping loudly.

Something was irking him, and it wasn't the gum. A few times, he almost spoke up, but decided against what could potentially be a very sticky situation (Bubblelicious aside).

Beck's eyes were glazed over. She had completely forgone pretending to work. She continued chomping and examined her split ends.

_Pop._

That was it.

Bernard put his pen down on his desk - with a little more force than was necessary – and rubbed his face wearily.

Beck huffed. "_Jeez_, okay. I'll be quieter. Sorry, _boss_." She threw up her hands indignantly.

"No, no, it's not that." He told her.

"Oh." She sat up. "Then what's the matter? Not like I care or anything - I mean, it's whatever – but I'm curious."

"It's just-" He rested his jaw in his palm, elbow on the desk. He took a frustrated breath, as if he couldn't figure out a way to articulate his thoughts. Beck looked at him intently, waiting for him to continue.

"Why _Jack_?"

Beck looked taken aback. She faltered for a moment. She stood up, stretched. "Why not?"

"I mean, it just seems like a strange situation. It's not like I didn't think that you would ever have a _lover_-"

"Woah, there," Beck stopped him, snorting. "No one ever said anything about _love_, B." She leaned forward with a smile and knocked on his wooden desk. "He was convenient, at best." She was relieved. This was good; he really only wanted surface stuff.

"Sorry, I just thought...you know." Bernard scratched the back of his head sheepishly. He lifted his cocoa mug to his lips.

"Don't get me wrong, he was _awesome_ in bed-" Bernard choked on his drink- "But we were just passing the time. Plus, he's far too cocky. All he ever really did was piss me off. Anyway, why am I telling you this?"

The Head Elf coughed for roughly thirty-five seconds straight, his ward staring at him flatly. When he seemed to have regained his breath, Beck opened her mouth. "Are you with us?"

"Wait-" He put up a hand, looking confused. "You two were..." His face colored somewhat, "_together_, but you weren't in love?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Beck plopped into the chair opposite him.

"I just thought, you know, that _that_ was reserved for people who loved each other. You did refer to it as your 'love life,' after all, didn't you?" He asked, using air-quotes.

"'Love life' can mean a lot of things, Honey B."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay." Beck drew one of her knees up to her chest and blew another bubble. "But 'love?' The 'love' you're talking about. Who really needs it?"

Bernard was confused. "But what about the future? Don't you want to settle down? Get married?"

"Marriage?" Beck said the word as if he had just asked her to to eat her own kidney. She shook her head and chuckled. "I don't belong to anyone."

"Well, it's not about _belonging_ to someone-" Bernard began.

"The concepts of marriage and love are crap, and I'll tell you why."

Bernard leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. He raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Fine, tell me."

"Alright. I'll tell you." Beck pulled her other knee up to her chest, and shifted so that she was sitting on her feet. She rested her elbows on the desk and leaned toward her boss. "Imagine you're walking down a really busy street with someone, holding hands. Eventually, an object is going to pass between the two of you - say, a mailbox, a light post, a person. Now, the way _I_ see it, you can either just let go, or do some seriously awkward maneuvering shit to stay connected, because you're too _scared_ to let go. And you can sure as shit bet that, on that street, no one's stopping for anyone."

"Well, I guess you just have to decide whether the maneuvering is worth it." He reasoned.

"It's not." She said firmly. "Not for me, it's not." She sat back and threw an arm over the back of the chair. "Don't be naive. No matter what anyone tries to tell you, it's every man for himself."

Bernard sat for a minute, thinking her words over. He had certainly never thought about it that way, but he didn't buy it for a minute. How can two people be together and not feel a connection? Perhaps it was his North Pole upbringing, but he was certain that Beck felt, at least at one point, _something_ for Jack Frost... and it didn't sit right with him. He told himself that he didn't know why that was.

While he was in contemplation, Judy swiftly knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a response. "Hello, Bernard. Hello, Beck." She smiled sweetly.

Bernard shook himself from his thoughts. "Oh, hey, Judy."

"I have a final draft for the new Official North Pole Cookbook, and it just needs your signature of approval."

"Just set it on my desk, and I'll take a look at it later."

"Oh, Bernard. We both know you don't actually read these things."

He looked flustered. "Well, I-"

Judy gave a laugh that was not unkind. "It's _okay_, Bernard. I know you have bigger fish to fry." She flipped to the back cover of the thick volume in her hands. "Just sign here."

Bernard looked around for his pen, shuffling documents and lifting up stacks of papers before finding it in the same place he had put it minutes before. He uncapped it with his teeth and quickly signed the book. "Is that all?" He said around the pen cap.

"I had an elf escort the Sand Man home on Vixen – he was feeling a little fatigued – but the other Figures made it back to their posts. Mother Nature said the meeting was a success...for the most part," She glanced back at Beck, smiling sympathetically.

The red head shrugged and smiled innocently. "Haters gonna hate." Was her sage response.

Judy stifled a giggle and continued. "Jack Frost disappeared a little earlier than everyone else, and we should probably make sure he's where he should be. Do you know where he went?"

"Hell." Beck informed her.

The Head Elf looked at her sternly. "Don't say 'Hell.'"

"Okay. Mexico."

"Did he go back to his post?" Judy repeated.

"Yes." Beck responded shortly.

"That's good," Judy took the book back from Bernard. "It's best that we keep tabs on him."

"I hit that, you know," Beck told her, pulling the gum from her mouth in a long, pink string.

"Don't say 'hit that.' Remember where you are and speak accordingly." Bernard lectured.

Beck doubled up the pink string and popped it back into her mouth, shrugging again. "I can think of another word, but I don't think you'll like it."

Judy blinked, not understanding. She changed the subject. "So Beck," she started, "How is it going, being back at the Pole and all?"

"Oh, you know," she said, "Same old crabby management, same old cheap-o child labor." Her lips twisted into a smile.

The younger elf laughed. "I don't know what you were talking about – she has a great sense of humor!" she beamed at Bernard, who rolled his eyes.

"It was either that, or put a gun in my mouth." Beck mumbled. Judy took her leave, and the moody red head returned to playing with her hair.

Bernard sighed, frustrated. "Why aren't you working?"

"Why aren't you more appealing?" She shot back with a sneer.

His face turned red in indignation, but Beck shut up when she saw the ghost of ancient pain in his expression. She looked down at the floor, choked for words, as Bernard looked up at the clock. It was only quarter to four. He stared at the confusing young woman before him, focusing on the freckled face that was devoid of silver flecks.

He stood, gathering his satchel. "I don't think anyone will mind if we punch out early." Beck followed him out. They made their way through the maze of hallways, the busy main workshop, and down the front steps outside. _She's got to have a soul in there, somewhere. Beck is in there somewhere. _He decided that he would have to search her doe eyes some other time, seeing as for the time being, he would need to watch his step.

* * *

Bernard led Beck to a kiosk and bought the two of them hot cocoa. Beck shuffled through the snow behind him, nursing her drink. Her hands were wrapped around her Styrofoam cup, and she held it close to her face to stay warm. She spotted a structure in the distance; the swings and metal slide a friendly, familiar sight.

_"Look Bernard, I'm bigger than you!"_

Bernard began to turn onto a side street when he noticed his companion continuing to walk ahead. "Beck, it's..." Then he saw where she was headed. He silently followed where his ward led.

She reached the swing set, brushed the snow off of one of the swings, and sat down. Wordlessly, her boss took the swing next to her.

The two of them sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. She looked at him. When he turned to her, she made haste in staring forward at nothing. When she looked back, he suddenly found his ancient leather shoes fascinating. The two stared ahead. Beck gently pushed herself with her foot. She took a sip of her hot drink.

"You know, I've always hated cocoa." _Woah, there. What a snappy ice breaker. Somebody stop me, I'm on fire._

"Really?" _This is awkward._

"_Hate _it." _Kill me now._

"Huh," he murmured, "I completely forgot." _I didn't forget. I was avoiding a conversation like this._

"Me too." Beck smiled into her cup. _This blows. Get me out of here._

"Do you want to keep moving?" Bernard asked. _Please say yes._

She gave a noncommittal shrug and the two rose and continued walking. Beck left her to-go cup behind, forgotten in the snow. Soon, a small schoolhouse came into view. Beck wanted to look away, but couldn't.

_"He's not worth it."_

She cringed at the memory, which had decided to dust itself off and leap to the forefront of her mind.

Bernard gazed up at the flag pole, around at the school yard. The snow here was dirty and chewed-up, from dozens of students milling about before class.

"_Just what are you trying to prove?"_

He inwardly kicked himself.

_ "Why in the world would I like _you?_"_

He looked down in shame, ears burning. He inhaled slowly, and the bitter air tickled his throat. "Have you ever wanted to take something back? Just erase something you said, or you did?" He mused, looking at his companion, hands clasped behind his back. She stared at him with a look that plainly said that any further conversation on the subject would _not_ be welcome.

"No. Never." He thought he detected a hint of desperation in her guarded tone. Stony faced, she turned on her heel and continued trudging through the snow, leaving Bernard in front of the school house. He watched her walk away, mentally weighing her words and her voice, before hurrying after her.

"We live down the other street. Where are you going?" Bernard trailed after her.

"Nowhere." Was Beck's eloquent response.

"Seriously, Beck." He was exasperated. He just wanted to get home. He wanted to sit in his study and be left alone to think. _'Think' meaning 'brood over every mistake I have ever made.'_

"I'll _tell you_ when we _get there_." Her voice was strained, but her back was to Bernard, so he couldn't tell exactly why.

They continued walking in silence, and turned down a familiar street. He was ready to put his foot down and tell her that it was time to go home, when he nearly ran into her.

She had stopped very suddenly, and was staring with her reddened lips slightly parted. It seemed as if she was struggling – against what, Bernard wasn't sure. It was as if she was closed off from the present time and place; it was like there were no other elves around, shoveling snow, strolling the sidewalks. She was isolated in a frozen, unfriendly place. He wasn't there. For a moment, she looked like the loneliest person in the world.

He followed her gaze, and the air rushed out of him when he saw the empty, decrepit, boarded up building in front of him.

It was the house that Beck grew up in.

* * *

**_Woop woop new chapter! After months of waiting!_**

**_I know my uploading is super erratic, but I promise I'm trying to get my shit together! I haven't given up on Beck. She's my muse. I just want to bring her to life as much as possible.  
_**

**_Anyway, I am proud to say that in August I will officially be a student of Salisbury University! Right now I'm undeclared, but I'm considering an English major, with a concentration in either Journalism or Creative Writing._**

**_But as with everything else in my life, I'm just flying by the seat of my pants!_**

**_As usual, reviews are lovely! Suggestions, constructive criticism, and ideas are always welcome!_**

**_I love you guys, you motivate me! _**


	11. Chapter 10

"Beck, wait." Bernard said and reached forward as Beck walked towards the house. She shook him off when he took a hold of her jacket sleeve. _This can't end well._ He dreaded the questions that he knew she would have. She would want the truth, but he couldn't possibly give it to her. The truth was something that he simply didn't have.

She crunched through the un-shoveled snow, up to a front window. There was a board missing, and Beck tried to peer into the dark house. When she couldn't see anything, she went to the door. She tried the door handle, but it was locked. She pushed, but it wouldn't budge. She kicked the frame. Beck rested her forehead on the wood of the door and closed her eyes.

"Beck..." Bernard started softly, stepping forward and reaching toward her. But Beck grabbed the handle again and threw all her weight against the door. "Stop." She smacked his hand out of the way when it made contact with her shoulder.

"If you're not going to help me, then stay out of my way."

Beck had been considering visiting her old home since her return, and now that she was there, her heart had dropped to eight feet below the earth's crust.

_This is so messed up._

Her stomach churned. Beck wanted her mother to open the door, all green eyes and disheveled hair. She would hug her and apologize – _So sorry about the mess. The house is being worked on – _and welcome her lost daughter inside. The house would smell just like it always had; fresh laundry and sawdust and hairspray. Maybe her mother would offer her something to eat – Beck would decline, of course. Blythe was a lot of things, but "chef" was not among them. Beck could almost smell the peppermint on her breath.

She slammed her weight against the door again. Her chest pounded. She wanted to throw up. Beck backed away from the door slightly.

"Beck?" Bernard glanced around to see who was watching.

"Shut up." She growled and launched herself forward at the door, shoulder first. There was a gut-wrenching crack, the sound of metal against metal, and then Beck was on the floor in the kitchen of her house. She lied there for a moment, catching her breath. She could see some vital parts of the door's lock laying in pieces a few feet from her.

Bernard rushed forward to help her up. She clenched her teeth at the pain in her shoulder. She rolled her arm in the socket, and let out a relieved breath when a satisfying crack rang throughout the room. Bernard cringed. He watched her as she wandered the dusty kitchen. The furniture was clearly in disrepair, but everything was where it was fifty years ago.

Beck opened a cabinet. The familiar mismatched china laid there innocently, as if it had been waiting on her all this time. The air was heavy and dusty and stagnant. She closed the cabinet and ran her hand over the counter top. She turned around slowly, leaning against the counter as if she had just been punched in the gut. Her eyes stung, but she bit her cheek as she looked evenly up at Bernard. His heart was in his throat.

"Where is my mom?"

"We really shouldn't be in here-"

"This is _my_ house." Her voice broke. "Where is my mom?" She repeated. Bernard's shoulders slumped. He was at a loss.

"No one knows."

He suddenly looked tired – ancient, even. The dark circles under his eyes showed the weight that his station had to carry.

"What do you mean, 'no one knows?'"

For an instant, Bernard thought he caught a glimpse of fragility in her dark eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut. A chair screeched on the floor as he pulled it out and sat down. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together. Beck drifted slightly in his direction.

"About a year after you left, she stopped coming to work. A few of her friends from the workshop came here, looking for her, but she had just – disappeared. Not a trace. The house was left undisturbed. Some think she might be with your dad, but then..." He trailed off. No one knew where her father was either, so that was a dead end. Beck zipped up her jacket – it was just as cold inside the house – and crossed her arms. Bernard watched her as she leaned against the counter again and slid to the floor, with one knee bent t her chest. She, in turn, watched her breath in the air as she exhaled, eyes unfocusing.

* * *

_Becky trotted home after school, hugging her books tightly to her body to protect herself from the biting wind. Her boots crunched through the pristine snow and she hummed to herself lightly. She pulled open the front gate when she reached her house and took the front steps in one leap. There was a blast of warm air as Becky entered the house, and she dropped her books on the table. _

_ "Hi, mom!" She chirped, but paused when she saw Blythe sitting at the table, face buried in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. Becky rushed over and knelt beside her. "Mom?" Blythe looked up at her daughter. Her celery-colored eyes were puffy and ringed with red._

_ "Oh, honey."_

_ "Mom, what's wrong?" She grabbed her mother's hand._

_ Blythe tenderly stroked her daughter's cheek with the back of her other hand. "You look just like your father." Becky gave her a questioning look as steps were heard on the staircase. She stood when she saw her father, dressed in a coat with a flat cap in hand. He was carrying a suitcase._

_ "Where are you going?"_

_ "I'm sorry sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head. He turned to his wife and knelt beside her, where Becky had been moments before. He reached out to stroke her hair, but she viciously slapped his hand away._

_ "Don't _touch_ me." She snarled._

_ Becky's father stood up slowly, grunting as he did so. He turned and opened the front door, putting his hat on. She trailed after him._

_ "Dad, where are you going?"_

_ He turned slowly and looked her in the eye. "Becky, please understand. I can't tell you. It's for your own good. I can only hope that, with time, your mother will understand too." _

_ "But you're coming back, right?" She asked desperately, choking back tears._

_ He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid that's not possible, sweetheart." He turned and started towards the gate._

_ Becky grabbed his arm. "Wait!"_

_ He pulled away from her hand, turning around again. He firmly grasped her by the shoulders. "Rebecca, you're old enough to know that everything in the world isn't beautiful. There are bad things, ugly people, sharp objects-" He chuckled at his own joke. Becky refused to smile, but he continued- "You are going to encounter a lot of the ugly. You can't always change that. But you have to remember to look for the beautiful. Even if you can't see it. Seeing isn't believing-"_

_ "-Believing is seeing," Becky finished the well-known allegory, a tear rolling down her cheek._

_ "That's right." He took her face in his hands. She stifled a sob. "No matter what happens, you have to remember that I love you." He kissed her head again and backed away. "Take care of your mother."_

_ Becky nodded, and watched wordlessly as her father evaporated from sight._

* * *

Beck lifted her eyes to Bernard and gave a ghost of a nod. "Yeah." She stood up as if it required a lot of effort, and moved towards the stairs. It felt as if she had to drag her limbs with her. She may as well have been walking through water. Bernard watched her ascend the stairs, wilted, but let her be alone.

Beck reached the top of the stairs and drifted into Blythe's bedroom, where dull white sheets covered the furniture. She opened the closet. All of her mother's clothes were where they should be; sloppily clinging to hangers and spilling out of a heavy trunk. She reached out towards the clothes, but hesitated when her trembling fingers were inches from the fabric. Beck took a shaky breath and touched a soft, grey sweater. She leaned in and inhaled her mother's scent; peppermint and hairspray, intertwined with time. She ran her hand over the hanging clothes and swallowed the nausea. It was almost like she had had the wind knocked out of her. Her head and vision were swimming. She pulled the grey sweater off of the hanger, and shrugged off her bomber jacket before wrapping herself in the garment. She closed the closet door, grabbed her jacket, and wandered out.

The red head descended the stairs and turned into another room, that of a child. The curtains were pastel, and a multitude of trinkets and baubles were placed on the dresser or pinned to the striped walls. She found herself picking up a dome-like object, blowing off the dust. In her hands was a small snow globe. She shook it and squinted through the dirty glass, rubbing grime away with her thumbs.

White snowflakes swirled and floated around a little bear. The design was simple, yet elegant and well-executed.

* * *

_"And he just left?" Bernard folded his legs beneath him and sat down in the snow._

_ Becky wrapped her arms around her knees and wiped her eyes. "He said he couldn't tell me why." She rested her forehead on her knees and sat there silently._

_ Bernard waited for her to speak, but she was quiet for longer than he anticipated. He became restless._

_ "Hey. I know things seem scary right now, but it'll be okay," was all that he could come up with. He hesitantly reached forward and rubbed her back. She mumbled something into her lap._

_ He changed the subject in an attempt to lift her spirits. "I have something for you. Promise you won't laugh,_"_ He told her as he reached into his satchel._

* * *

"Hey."

She jumped out of her skin and the snow globe slipped from her hand, tumbled through the air, and shattered on the wood floor. She looked back to see Bernard standing in the doorway of her childhood bedroom.

Her mind was suddenly, painfully cleared. Standing in that empty house with a boy she was once so close to, she was reminded of the stark, solitary life she was leading. She had made that choice herself, of course. She chose where her allegiance belonged, and subsequently chose to burn any and all bridges that stood in the way. Jack's words rang in her head.

_"You can't just walk away from this."_

In that moment, she knew. She was never going to see her mother again.

Bernard took in Beck's expression as she whipped around to face him; her wide eyes, her parted lips. She looked back down at the shattered glass on the floor. The liquid from inside the globe pooled around her shoes. She crouched down to frantically pick up the pieces. The little bear laid in the center of the mess, forlornly surrounded by the shrapnel of his former home. A shard of glass sliced her palm, and she hissed, clutching her hand and dropping the pieces. She looked up to see Bernard kneeling in front of her, wordlessly scooping up the ruined snow globe. Beck knew he recognized the destroyed trinket, and she watched an unfamiliar expression ripple across his features. The bruise on his cheek had darkened since the previous day. She picked up the bear, a little of her blood smearing on its resin body, and pocketed it, as Bernard dropped the rest of the remains into a basket in the corner. He was then beside her, reaching out to help her up. She took his warm, dry hand and stood. She noticed how much larger his hands were compared to hers, and gently pulled away.

"We should probably bandage that." He murmured as her fingers slid from his. He touched her back to lead her out, and she let him.

* * *

Bernard unlocked his front door and let the two of them in.

"Woah," Beck breathed when she saw the spacious apartment before her, "Nice crib."

The Head Elf shrugged it off. "Comes with the territory. Let's get you something for your hand." He pulled off his satchel and hung it on a chair before heading to a kitchen cabinet. He pulled out a first-aid kit.

Beck inched up behind him. "It's fine, I'm not gonna be a pussy about it. I think I just need a Band-aid."

Bernard looked back, grabbing her injured hand and taking a look at it. The cut was fairly deep and extended across her palm. He looked back up at her face, skeptically raising an eyebrow. "A Band-aid?" He reached into the metal box and pulled out rubbing alcohol and cotton pads. "You don't know what was on that glass," He told her tensely as he cleaned the cut. She jerked away.

"I'm a big girl. I can do it."

"Suit yourself." He put his hands up and backed away.

As Beck dabbed gingerly at the wound, Bernard opened the pantry. "It's getting late. What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not really hungry," Beck mumbled distractedly, clumsily trying to wrap her hand.

"Are you sure? Because I can-"

"I'm _fine_," Her voice was muffled, as she was using her teeth to pull the bandage tight. She pushed her hair out of her face, frustrated.

"Here, let me." Bernard stepped over and pulled her injured appendage to him and started re-wrapping it.

"I have it under control." Beck snapped at him, trying to pull away.

"You're doing it _wrong_," He pulled her back in his direction, glaring at her. He was not going to deal with her attitude.

"Let _go_!" She yanked away. He pulled harder, and the two struggled for a few moments. "I know it's difficult to hear with your head up your ass-" She looked up and caught his eyes, and the pair stopped cold. Their faces were far too close for Beck's comfort. They stood for a moment, suspended, waiting. Bernard turned her hand over. The pad of his thumb grazed the back of her hand ever so slightly. Beck's breath hitched in her throat, and she looked away.

Bernard opened his mouth to speak, when the front door burst open in the other room. The two put as much space as possible between them, as if they were similarly-charged batteries. Beck fled to the opposite counter, Bernard to the island. He forced a falsely-nonchalant stretching motion, staring determinedly at the ceiling.

"Bernard?" Curtis called out from the front room.

Beck fixed the Head Elf with a sharp look. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"He grows on you," Bernard said as he exited the kitchen.

"Yeah?" she followed him out. "So does ringworm."

* * *

**_Updated in less than a week since the last chapter! This must be a new record for me!_**

_**However, I'm not sure how I feel about this one.**_

_**Review, please! Critiques welcome!**_


	12. Chapter 11

"Santa's coming back." Curtis's face was flushed, and he struggled to regain his breath. He adjusted his glasses, which had gone askew in his rush.

"What? Why?" Bernard asked, alarmed. "He left just the other day!"

"Apparently Buddy has come down with something, and they're returning to the Pole until he recovers." The Number Two elf informed him, looking past him at Beck, who was hanging behind in the doorway to the kitchen, listening. She leaned against the wall, curious.

"It's not serious, is it?" His superior inquired.

"I don't think so. But who really wants to travel with a sick, fussy toddler?"

Bernard nodded in agreement. "Ever wonder why we never bring you on trips?"

Curtis glared at him over his spectacles and changed the subject. "So what prompted you to leave work at four? You never clock out that early." He raised an eyebrow.

"My responsibilities can't always coincide." Bernard replied tensely. He lowered his voice. "I had a bit of a situation." He jerked his head towards his charge behind him.

"I can hear you." Beck mumbled, annoyed. She crossed her arms in front of her.

Bernard sighed, exasperated. "Don't be a nuisance, Beck." He warned without turning around.

"But I thought I was a situation."

He ignored her.

"Well, hey, you know, if juggling your numerous commitments is too taxing, I could always take some of the work off of your shoulders!" Curtis suggested slyly.

Bernard gave him an arch look. "Come to think of it, the kitchen employees are a little understaffed today. Those ovens won't clean themselves." He watched his beta's crushed reaction with amusement.

Curtis was crestfallen; he was hoping for a nice managerial position (or really anything that allowed him to tell people what to do). This was _not_ what he had had in mind. His shoulders slumped. He opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. "_Anyway._ Santa should be back in a day or two, since he's making a stop to see Laura and the kids."

"I'll make sure things are ready for his return." Bernard told him. His mind was already at work – there was a lot to prepare if Santa was coming back ahead of schedule. _I'll have to notify the kitchen staff so that they can adjust their work, have his office cleaned and the conference table taken out of there. I also have to remember to let the physician know…_ He realized that Curtis was still there.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, I just-"

"Okay then, here's a gold star," Bernard cut him off sarcastically, rolling his eyes and steering him toward the door. "Take it easy, will ya? Go home, Curtis. Take a coffee break or something."

"But I don't drink-" The door was shut firmly behind him, silencing the rest of his sentence.

Bernard gave a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.

"What a little sty." Beck grumbled from her spot across the room, pulling her jacket off.

"Yes, but unfortunately he's _my_ sty." He looked up at her with a wry smile, lacing his fingers behind his head. It was a startlingly boyish action, and Beck had to force herself to stifle the flashbacks and swallow the nostalgia.

"So," She started, stepping forward and launching herself over the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions. "What kind of blue-collar torture am _1_ being sentenced to?"

"I didn't realize that you had such an interest in securing a position." Bernard pulled the pantry open. "I thought you already had such a successful career as the Devil."

Beck idly played with the tassels on a decorative pillow. "Well, I just thought I should pass the time _somehow, _just until I can get back to a fulfilling existence of inflicting eternal suffering and misery."

"I didn't realize you had stopped."

Beck sat up and rested her chin on the back of the couch, watching him silently. He was assembling a few things into a pot on the stove. "What are you making?" Beck adjusted the bandage on her hand, which had come loose in their latest struggle. He either didn't hear her, or pretended not to.

* * *

A few minutes later, the food was ready. Beck rolled off of the couch, grunting as she did so. She joined him in the kitchen, and peered into the pot of Ramen.

"You really do eat like a lonely college student," She snorted as Bernard served himself.

"I'm Head Elf, not Head Chef. And no one's forcing you to eat." But Beck had already tucked into her meal with gusto. She stood with her elbows resting on the island, one leg crossing the other at the ankle. Bernard took up residence leaning against the far counter top. For a few minutes, the only present sound was that of utensils clinking against bowls.

Bernard was curious about something. He cleared his throat. "What exactly did you do while you were, uh…" _Exiled. _"In the human world?"

Beck set her bowl down. "Other than sleep around, you mean?" She joked, smirking, but he thought he saw something else behind her expression.

"That's not exactly what I meant." Beck felt like Bernard was staring right through her with those big brown eyes.

She was annoyed that he would ask. She hoisted herself up and sat on the counter. "Well, why do you want to know anyway?" This was dangerous territory.

"I just wondered what you've been up to for - oh, I don't know - the past century."

"Why do you care?" Beck shot back.

"It just struck me as odd that you moved around as much as you did, that's all." He seemed taken aback by her defensiveness.

Beck gave what she hoped looked like a noncommittal shrug. Her mind raced for an excuse. "It's just…" She frantically wracked her brain for something to say. "If I stayed too long, people would notice that I wasn't aging. I might not be the most dedicated elf, but I'm not _stupid_." A relieved breath exited her lungs with a _whoosh_. "Plus, it's easier not to have to worry about attachments. Less messy." _Okay, so at least it's not a _total _lie._

The arch elf seemed to believe it. He looked at her calculatingly out of the corner of his eye as he carried his bowl to the sink. Beck followed suit, hoping he wouldn't decide to revisit their conversation. He leaned over the sink, preparing to wash the bowls. Beck slid next to him, her back to the counter. She casually glanced over her shoulder at his face and carefully gauged his expression.

"What?" He stopped washing the dishes in the sink and turned his face towards her. She could feel his breath on her cheek.

"I wish you would stop trying to figure me out." Her tone was playful, but she looked at him darkly.

"Who says I'm trying to 'figure you out?'" He asked, amused. Beck's pulse quickened. _He knows. He has to._ Her mind raced with paranoia. His upper arm brushed against hers and she shrank back at the contact. Bernard stared down at his hands.

"I think I'm going to call it a night." The red head murmured.

"But it's only seven-thirty."

"I'm tired," She added hurriedly.

Bernard dried his hands on a towel. "Alright, I guess I'll walk you there."

Beck was peeved. "I'm not a child. Believe it or not, I know where my apartment is."

Her boss simply plucked a set of keys from the counter and dangled them in front of her. "Oh, yeah? Good luck getting in without me."

She grumbled and left the room to collect her jacket.

* * *

"So when do I graduate to my very own set of keys?" Beck asked dryly as they approached her door.

"That depends on a few things." Bernard unlocked the door. "Goodni-"

But the door had already been firmly shut in his face.

* * *

Beck listened for the customary clicks on the other side of the door, leaning against the wood and holding her breath. She dragged herself into her apartment and fumbled around in the dark for a moment, until she found the light switch.

"Hello, Beck."

Beck's hair stood on end. She had never forgotten that unnaturally calm voice. She tossed her coat onto the back of the sofa and kept her expression guarded.

"Eris."

"Really, Beck. Almost a century, and your manners haven't improved a single iota." The petite blonde sat on the very edge of the arm chair, slender legs crossed. Her tiny hands were folded demurely in her lap.

Beck pursed her lips. She leaned over a table and turned another lamp on. "Alright. Good evening, Eris, Goddess of Chaos. Might I offer you a beverage? Or perhaps inquire as to what the actual _fuck_ you are doing in my chair?"

"Might _I_ inquire as to your whereabouts for the past several decades?" Eris's round blue eyes bore straight into her skull. "You've certainly not been communicating with the Order in any capacity. Am I to believe that you have simply been too busy running about in ugly grey sweaters to remember us? Truly, I am offended." She smiled sweetly, dimples appearing in her rosy cheeks as she picked imaginary lint from her skirt. Her golden curls framed her face, adding to her angelic appearance. Although Beck appeared to only be in her late teens or very early twenties, the other woman appeared even younger. The truth was that Eris was, in fact, a few thousand years older than the red head.

Beck stole a glance down at her mother's sweater, tugging at it self-consciously. There were few people who could get under her skin, and Eris was one of them. Beck realized that now that she was no longer living a transient life in the human world, it was much easier for her old associates to find her. And the North Pole was directly in the Order's line of vision.

"Might I remind you that you made a deal?" The smaller woman dimpled again, rising from her seat. "Of course, if you can't fulfill your end of the bargain, you _are_ replaceable. I'm confident in the Professor's ability to refresh your memory." Her hands were clasped behind her back as she made a predatory circle around Beck. Her voice was unnervingly calm and polite.

Beck flinched. Images flashed in her mind, of a murky, dark green-blue. Of her startlingly white flesh frantically thrashing before her. A pair of steel-toed shoes in her line of sight, before blackness. She mentally shook herself. "The Professor is a joke, and you're a psychopath." She shot back.

"The Order sees things very differently. However, you have a choice. You are by no means obligated to respond."

"Then don't expect me to." Beck stonily crossed her arms.

"But know this. Under the Professor, every action has an appropriate and equivalent consequence. I highly suggest that you decide which outcome you prefer." Eris stopped directly in front of her, staring her in the face. She was a few inches shorter than Beck, and had to look up. "_He's a prophet_." She smiled serenely. Beck's skin crawled. The blonde made a show of looking at the clock on the wall, and lightly touching her fingers to her pretty white throat in distress. "Oh, look at the time!"

Beck made an "O" shape with her mouth, mocking her visitor. She clapped her hands to her cheeks in mock concern. "Oh _dear_! It's already a quarter-past crazy!"

Eris maintained her dimpled smile, with steel in her eyes. "I always enjoy our chats, Beck." She took Beck's shoulders and held her at an arm's length, cocking her head to the side as if admiring her. Beck shook her off. "It would behoove you to consider what I've said."

Beck briskly walked back to the locked door; a front for getting out of physical contact range. "And it would behoove _you_ to get the hell-" She looked back, and paused.

Eris was gone. "Every time," She muttered. "Is that it?" She called to the empty room, clenching her fists. "No grand exit? I've got to say, I was expecting to clean up after you."

Just then, her electricity went out.

* * *

_**Hey, guys! This is my first post as an official college student! Luckily, during Hurricane Irene I had plenty of time to whip up a new chapter. The first thing I decided to do after organizing my dorm was put up a new chapter, to celebrate the new chapter of my life (please shoot me if I ever say anything like that again). I'm not certain how much time I'll have to devote to the story, but I promise to make time. **_

_**I really appreciate the support I've gotten from you guys over the past year and a half. **_

_**Review please! Critiques welcome!**_


	13. Chapter 12

That night, Bernard found sleep fleeting, at best. His mind wouldn't let him rest. He kept seeing images of Beck's mother in the months before she went missing.

* * *

_She had lost a husband, and now a daughter. The darkness under her hollow eyes was a side effect of many sleepless nights. Blythe had always been known for her bubbly personality and off-beat sense of humor. Now, her smiles were few and far between. She began dropping weight; this is a feat for those who live at the North Pole, where the richest food imaginable is always at one's fingertips. She neglected herself, and everyone pretended not to see._

_ Everyone but Bernard._

_ After seeing her collapse on the job, he knew that hit conscience wouldn't let him stand idly by as she wasted away. He always made time to visit her. He brought her tea and food, since her cupboards always seemed to be empty. He tried to get her to eat, to put on some weight. He would try and pull some conversation out of the despondent elf. There was always mindless gossip, funny anecdotes from his work day; just light things to pull her out of her own head. Bernard never brought up Blythe's daughter, and neither did she. The truth was that he was terrified to. He didn't know what he would unlock my speaking Beck's name. He was terrified that this elf, who had always seemed so strong, so above any and all pain, was crumbling before his eyes._

* * *

He had to admit to himself; he was furious with Beck for leaving her mother. For leaving him to pick up the shell of a person that she had left behind. How could someone be so selfish?

* * *

_ One evening, Bernard came to visit late. Working directly under the head of Research and Development, his hours could frequently be unpredictable. He was basically an assistant, and his superior had had him filing paperwork all day. He grabbed some cookies from the kitchens and stuffed them into a paper bag before heading over._

_ He knocked on the door, and waited for her to shuffle over and answer it. Blythe had mentioned giving him a spare key, but she kept misplacing it. She had always been a bit scatterbrained. She opened the door to let him in, kissed him on the cheek, and promptly turned to walk back into the living room._

_ "Just put those on the kitchen counter."_

_ So it was going to be one of _those_ nights._

_ He followed her into the room. "You didn't come in to work today, Blythe. How do I know you've eaten?" He had eventually stopped addressing her as "Mrs. Adler," because it was too unfamiliar, too cold. In Bernard's opinion, once you peel someone off of their kitchen floor in order to get them to put clean clothes on and choke down some broth, you've reached a certain level of familiarity._

_ She had been coming into work less and less frequently. The decorating department was poised to replace her; she hadn't been in for three days straight. Her condition was declining. Bernard took a seat beside her on the sofa. Her perpetually young face was hollow and ashen._

_ "You know, you were the best thing that ever happened to her." She murmured, leaning her head back. _

_ Bernard started. This was the first time he had heard her mention Beck since her suspension. She picked lint off of the grey sweater that hung from her fragile frame. _

_ "I used to think that you two would end up together. Of course, that's silly. You two are such different people."_

_ He stared at her, speechless. She, in turn, stared at the wall. Suddenly, she pitched forward, face in her hands._

_ "Blythe!" Bernard was alarmed. She waved him off._

_ "Oh, it's just another dizzy spell-" she tried to say, but her words were soon replaced by sobs. Bernard had nothing to say. All he could do was wrap a protective arm around her bony shoulders and let her weep into his neck. As he rubbed her back, he could feel each and every vertebra that protruded through her flesh. He found himself vacillating between tenderness and concern for the crumbling person in his arms, and unimaginable anger at the person who had caused it._

_ The next morning, Blythe was gone._

* * *

Bernard rolled over and continued chasing the rest he found so elusive.

* * *

On the floor below, Beck wasn't having the most pleasant evening, either.

She futilely flipped the light switch a few dozen times. The red head fumbled frantically in the dark, trying to use the dim, watery light filtering in through the window to find her way. She banged her shin on the coffee table and swore, fuming.

Beck made her way to the window, and started pulling the heavy curtains to one side when she felt something on the frame. She grabbed the protruding piece of metal and realized that it was a handle. She turned it and felt a click. Outside of the window, she could make out the shape of a railing. Her curious face illuminated by the Christmas lights in the town below, she struggled to push the window up. Once Beck managed to open it, she poked her head out and noticed a metal platform beneath her. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that the platform and railing were actually part of a fire escape that ran up the side of the building.

_Looks like the Boss doesn't have it all figured out, after all_.

Pulling the sweater tighter around herself, Beck timidly placed one leg outside and tested the stability of the structure. Slowly, tentatively, she put her weight on that foot and pulled the other leg behind her. She wobbled unsteadily for a few moments when her shoe caught on the windowsill, and her heart stopped for a moment. She freed her foot with a jerk. Crouching and clutching onto the railing, Beck refused to open her eyes until her pulse returned to normal.

_Oh, my God. I am going to die falling off of a fire escape at the North Pole. I hope they don't think Bernard did it. It would be more of a political statement if I threw _myself _from my window._

Slowly, she opened one eye and peered around. Then the other. She seemed to be in one piece. Once Beck could bring herself to let go of the iron bars, she took stock of her situation. She looked up and it occurred to her that Bernard had the entire floor just above her. Curious, she slowly started to inch her way toward the stairs to the next level. She placed her foot on the first step.

The metal creaking noise sent her bolting back through her window.

She dragged herself into her bedroom, nursing her bruised ego. With nothing left to do but wait for the sun to come up, Beck fell into a fitful slumber.

* * *

_Beck ran, Bernard's words ringing in her ears. _

"I'm not worth it?"

_She prayed that her heaving breath would drown out his voice. But mostly, she wanted to drown out her own._

"Girls like me don't go with losers."_ She didn't know why she had said it in the first place; she certainly hadn't meant it. She was furious with herself to have been caught with James. James, of all people. Had she forgotten who he was? Who _she_ was?_

_And what about Bernard? _

What about him?

_The crack rang out like a gun shot. Her leg was under the ice before she had time to register the noise. The water temperature took her breath away. Panicked, she tried to crawl away from the fracture. Her fingers scrambled at the ice for purchase, trying to free her leg. She screamed for help. Her eyes widened like a frightened animal's as she heard another crack. She heard herself shriek._

_Beck tried to hang onto the edge, to pull herself out, but the ice wasn't strong enough. It crumbled under her numb fingers. She sucked in air, but her lungs refused to expand. Beck could recall learning something in school about what to do if she found herself in freezing waters, but her fuzzy, terrified mind refused to let her remember exactly that was. She pushed out a weak, "Help!" _

_Her arms thrashed at the frigid water, struggling to keep her head up. She was getting tired. She tried screaming again, but it escaped as a mere wheeze. Her vision was spotty. Her limbs fought the water until she no longer had feeling in them, and just before she blacked out, a pair of steel-toed wing-tip shoes appeared in her vision._

* * *

Beck jerked awake, chest heaving. Her arms and legs were tangled in the silk and velvet bedclothes. She hadn't had that dream in years. Her earlier encounter with Eris felt imagined, unreal. Upon trying to turn on a lamp, she was proven wrong. She kicked the covers off, rubbing her eyes. She tried to bring herself back to the present, but was rewarded with a fresh rush of memories.

"_Do you want to live?"_

What the hell kind of question was that? Of course she had wanted to live!

"_I need you to do something for me in return."_ She remembered an angular, bespectacled face hovering above her.

At the time, Beck's shell-shocked mind had been ready to accept any deal that could guarantee her immediate survival. Elves were eternally young, but they weren't enchanted enough to cheat death.

She had been woozy from oxygen deprivation and the shock of the water temperature, and had been cut badly by the ice. _"Anything. Please,"_ she had begged him. Anything to make the pain stop. She could recall the snow, tinted red.

Shakily, she had signed in blood.

The next thing that Beck remembered was waking up in her bedroom, with a note next to her: _Don't forget our bargain._

The red head stood and shook herself, accepting the fact that she wasn't going to get any sleep that night. She squinted at the tiny bedside clock. It was almost four. _Ugh_.

She dragged herself into the living room, pausing as she passed the window. She wondered what Bernard was doing. She needed to remind herself that there was a world outside of her ever-growing nightmare. Without another thought, Beck pulled the sweater on over her pajamas, jerked up the windowpane, and crawled out of the window.

She paused when she reached the steps, but steeled herself and began to climb. The Head Elf's light was on. Upon closer inspection, Beck could see a warm, rustic-looking bedroom inside.

* * *

Bernard ran a hand through his curls and poured himself a cup of cocoa. His thoughts refused to let him rest. He wanted to hate her. The way she had looked at him when she saw the state of her former home.

"_Where is my mom?"_ She had asked.

How dare she be shocked that her mother didn't put her entire life on hold for her? Of course, her life _had_ been on hold; it had come to a screeching halt while Beck was gone. That was the worst part. And the fact that Beck seemed to have expected her to be waiting around to receive her upon return made him sick. Who was the one who took care of Blythe? Who was the one who saw the worst side of her? _He _was left to pick up the pieces once Beck's choices had caught up with her.

He took a long swig from his mug.

Even so, a small part of him felt for Beck. She was completely alone, painfully solitary. She had had no security net to fall back on when she returned. And, another part of Bernard, a larger part than he cared to admit, was ridden with guilt. He had done nothing as the years, the decades rolled by, as Beck was left alone in the human world.

He rested his forehead in his palm, elbow on the table, and allowed that, perhaps his bitterness at their falling-out, coupled with his watching Blythe fade away might have had something to do with it. The Arch Elf hadn't been proactive about Beck's return because in his eyes, she hadn't deserved to come back. Okay, so maybe he _wasn't_ the best role-model for the idealistic elves of the North Pole. He chuckled mirthlessly to himself, before standing and padding back into his bedroom, mug in hand.

* * *

Beck took in the cozy room before her, her view bordered by the heavy velvet drapes. There were centuries-old tapestries on the walls, and the furniture was heavy and hand-crafted. The bed was enormous and plush. A grandfather clock silently stood watch over everything, flanked by huge bookshelves. Surprisingly, the majority of the décor was, in fact, not a red-and-green color scheme. Beck's apartment was decorated in a standardized style, predictable but appropriate for the North Pole. It was rich, but temporary. Bernard's dwelling was that of someone who had made this place a home.

Her breath fogged up the window, and she watched as the glass slowly cleared up. Beck was snapped from her reverie when the bedroom door opened. She ducked beneath the windowsill, holding her breath for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night.

When she dared to peek back inside, she had to bite her cheek to keep herself from laughing. Bernard was dressed in red and white striped flannel pajamas.

She tried to keep her composure, but it was just so hard when he looked just like a candy cane.

Beneath the window, Beck doubled over, shaking in silent laughter. Once she could compose herself, the red head poked her head back up. He was seated on the edge of the bed, staring at a photograph in his hand. His face was unreadable.

All of a sudden, Beck couldn't help but feel as if she was intruding (window-peeping aside). She crept away from the window with an acute sense of regret. It was an unfamiliar sensation, as she had always tried to live a life free of it.

_Regret doesn't do anyone any favors,_ she told herself. _So why be sorry? It won't change anything._

Still, she finally fell asleep that night, clutching an old grey sweater as if it would turn back the clock.

* * *

**_As my Thanksgiving break is drawing to a close, I hope everyone is having a safe and lovely start to their holiday season!_**

**_I hope you're all not _too _mad at me for taking so long to update, but, you know. College and stuff. But I'm not abandoning The Runaround. Beck is my muse!_**

**_I'm fairly certain that I'll have a new chapter or two up within the next month or so, since my semester is almost over. Then it's hello, month and a half-long Winter break! _**

**_Thank you guys so much for reading!_**

**_Reviews please! Critiques welcome!_**


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